


Evil Author Day 2020

by Paula Cas (YanzaDracan)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Backstory, Drama, Evil Author Day 2020, F/M, Het, International Fanworks Day 2020, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YanzaDracan/pseuds/Paula%20Cas
Summary: Works in progress. They are not proofread, so expect typos, inconsistent plots and more. RL permitting they'll appear completed later in the year.
Relationships: Goodnight Robicheaux/Billy Rocks, Joshua Faraday/Vasquez
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33
Collections: International Fanworks Day 2020





	Evil Author Day 2020

**_~ June 1840 ~_ **

The day he was born was a day of blood, screams and pain. Tiny lungs screamed at being pushed from the warmth of his mother’s body … The pretty brunette woman screamed with the pain birthing her son caused, as her Texas Ranger husband screamed and cussed a blue streak when a Comanche arrow pierced his thigh muscle.

It had been two years since anyone had attacked the homestead. The Faradays were heading home after church when a group of young Comanche warriors attacked. Their team had bolted in fear from the gunfire and war cries. When the wagon wheel had cracked against a rock, the wagon overturned while the team continued to run in the direction of the homestead. Luck was with them as the wagon’s tumble hadn’t injured either adult. Riley had grabbed his son to protect the boy from the fall. He pulled his pistol while Maura grabbed their rifle from where it landed in the dirt. One bit of luck for the family, only one of the braves had a rifle. Riley targeted him first. The brave toppled from his horse as an arrow caught the Texas Ranger in the side.

Maura wanted to go to her husband, but knew she had to keep firing and praying the folks leaving church heard the shots and would come to their rescue. Two more Comanche fell, but another arrow hit the left side of Riley’s chest. Maura killed another before they decided to look for easier prey elsewhere as the combatants noticed the dust cloud coming from the direction of town. She kept firing as they rode away, a wave of satisfaction rolled through her as another brave fell forward over his horse’s neck.

Keeping her grip on the rifle, she turned to help her husband, but all she saw was her son sitting quietly in a pool of his father’s blood patting his cheek.

Five years later, the Widow Maura Faraday sold the small homestead to another Ranger and his family, taken her husband’s pension, son, their few belongings, and moved to Westport, Missouri with the idea of rejoining her family. She hugged her friends that had taken her in after the attack that led to Riley Faraday’s death.

**_~ June 1854 ~_ **

Joshua Faraday smiled widely at his mother as he gave her the handful of money Mr. Malone at the livery stable had given him for helping him with the horses and oxen. Westport, Missouri was rapidly replacing Independence as the starting point for people headed west to purchase their supplies and livestock. It also meant there was money to be made from overworked livery stable owners. He could have found an easier job at the Mercantile, but the red-head loved horses and they all seemed to love him back.

Seeing Joshua able to work with the most contrary animals, Ed Malone took the time to teach the boy the methods he’d used over the years to gentle horses as opposed to ‘busting broncs’. Joshua was whip smart and sucked up learning like the sun sucked water from a puddle. He wondered if he could convince the Widow Faraday to step out with him Sunday. She was a fine looking woman with her own seamstress shop. Nine years as a widow was long enough to grieve after a man, even if he was a Texas Ranger.

Finished for the day, Joshua headed to their neat little house with property that butted against the Kansas border. A free black family had moved into the house on the Kansas side of the border. None of the Chisholms would come to the Missouri side, but Joshua’s mama would bring home extra sewing for Mrs. Chisholm because mama said the woman did the most beautiful fancy work on her customers’ clothing. She had a good adult son and two pretty daughters, but Joshua seldom saw them. Her son, Sam, worked in one of the slaughterhouses not far from their neighborhood, daughter, Adah had moved to Lincoln, Kansas with her husband and the youngest, Iris, worked as a maid in one of the big houses built along the river.

Joshua always made it a point to carry water, clear the stove of ashes, and fill the wood boxes and coal buckets for Mrs. Chisholm while he was doing the same chores for his mama. She always provided him with a snack before sending him home with the admonishment that growing boys needed ‘fed up’.

~ • ~ • ~

Just finished a growth spurt and growing his first whiskers as summer turned toward fall, Joshua rubbed the coarse auburn hair that had sprouted on his chin as he rode toward the Chisholm house. He’d been so proud when the first signs of manhood had appeared. Though his birthday had been in June, his mother splurged on his favorite meal of steak and potatoes, and invited her beau, Ed Malone to share in the milestone celebration to show the most important man in her life that she was serious about the livery owner.

During dinner, Joshua’s eyes kept flicking to the pair of saddlebags laying on the table in the sitting area. Acting like they were company, his mother served cake and coffee, setting the tray on the table next to the saddlebags.

“I know you won’t settle down until you know why I took your father’s saddlebags out of my trunk.” Maura gave her son an indulgent smile. “When your father was killed, I was so angry I almost threw everything at his Ranger Captain until I remembered how being a Ranger was such a large part of who he was.” She picked up the saddlebags and carried them over to her son. “I hope you will use these like your father … To protect and defend those who aren’t able to do it for themselves.” Maura paused to allow the tears to clear from her voice. “I know Ed and Sam have taught you about guns and how to shoot, but short of a life and death situation, I want you to leave them packed away.” She knew her son’s fiery temper and her expression was stern as she waited for his answer.

Seeing the expression in his mother’s green eyes, Joshua kept the smart mouthed remark he’d almost blurted out behind his teeth.

“Yes ma’am.” He ducked his head trying to appear meek, but inside he was doing the Virginia Reel as he accepted the saddlebags.

“The kit he used when he was on the trail is also in there. I expect you to make good use of his shaving kit while you’re under my roof.”

She enfolded him in a hug that Joshua readily returned as they all chuckled over her comment. Maura reached up and ruffled the reddish brown hair of the young man who now towered over her diminutive five foot four inch frame.

“Thank you, Ma. I love you.” He whispered into her dark hair before pulling away.

As much as he wanted to run to his room and go through his father’s saddlebags, his mother would surely reprimand him for his bad manners … Even though it was only Ed, he sat back down to wait until his mother passed out the pieces of cake. Giving Joshua a knowing smile, his boss, and probably one day his mother’s new husband, handed him a box. Inside lay a Sheffield Bowie knife with an antler handle.

“Thank you, Ed.” Joshua’s green eyes sparkled with joy.

“A knife for every occasion.” Ed chuckled. “A man should have a man’s tools.” He clapped Joshua on the shoulder. “I still expect to see you at work in the morning.”

“Oh, yes, Sir.” Joshua gushed as his mother handed him a piece of cake.

Finally released by his mother’s knowing smile, Joshua rushed to his room to investigate the contents of his father’s saddlebags. That she would keep his father’s things in such excellent condition until he was of an age to be gifted them, was a tribute to his mother’s continued regard for her dead husband. After running his fingers over the worn but well-oiled leather, Joshua finally unbuckled the left pouch.

Inside he found the camping set his father used on fugitive hunts. Inside the nested kettles and cups was his father’s shaving gear including the strop, brush, straight razor, and new tin of shaving soap. Joshua knew most traveling men simply waited until they got to the next town with a barber shop to get a shave, but his mother told stories of how his father always stopped a day from home to bathe in the nearest creek, change clothes and shave, not wanting to drag trail dirt and smell into their home. Smiling to himself, Joshua replaced everything and moved on to the other bag.

There he found his father’s guns and gun belt. They lay nestled in their holsters where his mother had kept them clean and oiled for the past twelve years. He also found a gun cleaning kit and a box of shells. Overwhelmed by the memory of stories his mother had told over the years, and his own few memories of his father’s smell as he hugged Joshua to his chest when he returned home from a fugitive hunt. He stretched out on his bed letting the memories flow until he fell asleep with his hand resting on the saddlebags.

~ • ~ • ~

At sixteen, Joshua had a new home … A new man in his mother’s life, and the beginnings of a restlessness of someone constantly watching people leave for the dangers and adventures of the sparsely settle land west of Missouri.

Once Ed Malone and Maura Faraday married, the man had begun taking Joshua on buying trips for horses, mules, and oxen to supply the settlers moving west. Those trips included teaching the young man about drinking, gambling, and his first trip to a whorehouse, though Ed remained true to Maura … None of which they mentioned to his mother.

Always curious as a cat, Joshua spent as much time questioning the women whose time he bought as he did indulging in sex. It was in a St. Louis whorehouse he discovered he enjoyed the male whores as much as the female. If he was quieter than usual on the trip home, Ed attributed it to the larger than normal string of horses and mules they were wrangling.

When he made himself rooms at the livery, his mother complained about him moving away from Ed’s home. When Joshua had gathered his belongings including his father’s guns, mother and son argued bitterly until Joshua had fled to town. The next morning he apologized for losing his temper, but not for wanting a space of his own. Once again, he had Ed to thank for bringing his mother around and brokering the peace between the warring parties. To show his appreciation, Joshua was already hard at work gentling the new horses they’d brought home on their last trip.

~ • ~ • ~

It was just light enough to see without the lantern, but already Joshua and Ed were harnessing teams to their Conestoga wagons. It was a small group, but they were only going as far as Medicine Lodge, Kansas. Joshua had finished checking the hooves on the final team. The horses let him know there was someone close they didn’t know.

“I’ll get to you soon as I finish getting these teams hooked up.” He set the foot down he was examining, checked that the harnesses were properly settled before he turned around.

“That’ll be fine, the morning light showed the bright smile of Sam Chisholm. “How’d you know I was there?” The young black man asked.

“The horses told me.” Joshua shoved his friend into the barn. “Are you crazy? I thought you didn’t come into Missouri because the slave catchers don’t care if you’re free?”

“I took care of that by becoming a duly sworn Warrant Officer and licensed peace officer for the US Marshals. I’m travelling with the wagon train as far as Medicine Bow then I’m going down into the Indian Territories hunting fugitives.”

“Your mama and sister?”

“I was hoping you’d keep looking in on them like you been doing until I get back.”

“You know I will. How long you going to be gone?”

“I should be back in six weeks.” Sam held his hand out to the younger man. “Thank you, Joshua for being our friend.”

“Your mama feeds me real good, so I should thank you.” He chuckled as he shook hands with Sam. “These people are taking off around ten o’clock.”

“I’m going to meet them on the Kansas side, I just wanted to ask you to look after my family while I was gone.” Sam swung up on his black brute of a horse.

“Make sure you come back.” Joshua chided waving as Sam rode away.

~ • ~ • ~

Joshua spent the next six weeks sleeping in his bedroll on the Chisholm’s living room floor and riding to the livery every day. They were expecting Sam back any day when news went through the neighborhood like wildfire. A company called Bogue Consolidated was buying property for a proposed barge docking and loading facility. If the gossip proved to be true, the Chisholm property would be on the edge of the proposed acreage. The other piece of news that had the occupants of the house exchanging worried looks was news out of Lincoln, Kansas. News was Blackstone Detectives were murdering and burning people out of their homes, taking their property then selling it to the railroad.

The young man was starting to worry Sam wouldn’t get home in time to help his mother deal with Bogue’s people. No matter where the old man, Gunnar Bogue went, his son, Bartholomew, and fifteen to twenty hired guns they call Blackstone Detectives were always around them. They started interrupted services at churches using the presence of the Blackstones to intimidate people into selling their property.

Pearl Chisholm refused to be intimidated. She and her children had been making their own way too many years to let some upstart white man run her out of her home. Joshua began wearing his guns and practicing when he had free time. He admired Mrs. Chisholm’s courage, but he feared for what could happen, and wished Sam was home.

Maura and Ed admonished Joshua for wearing his father’s guns, fearing he’d get caught in the crossfire between the Blackstones, and people who were resisting the Bogues. On the one hand, they were proud of Joshua for standing with his friends, but they feared for his life. It had made for another argument that seemed to become more frequent since Maura and Ed had married. He had never had a father and he was too old to accept anyone in that role by the time Ed came into their lives.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when Sam returned from his fugitive hunt, having turned in four bounties that earned him nearly a thousand dollars. While he was at the Marshals’ office filing his paperwork, he listened to the other Marshals talking about the Blackstones working for Bogue Consolidated and the increase in bodies that had been washing up out of the river near where the new barge docks were going to be built. Sam felt his blood run cold when they showed him the newspaper article with the map of the ground they wanted.

“Can we tie any of Bogue’s men to the bodies?” Sam wanted to know.

“Unfortunately no. Bogue’s chief of security, Josiah Blackstone, filed papers so his people would be along the lines of the Pinkerton Agency, giving them weight with local law enforcement.” His boss complained. “Stay out of their way, Sam. Depending on the sheriff or judge, there may not be much we can do even if we have irrefutable evidence of any of the Blackstones’ guilt.”

“I’ll do my best, but my home sits inside this boundary where they’re buying property.” He threw the paper down and walked out of the office.

Before he returned home, he’d stopped at the bank and paid off his mother’s mortgage. He wanted to make sure they owned their house free of the bank’s influence. He hoped it would be one less point of pressure the Bogues could use. He was on his way home when the telegraph operator called his name.

“Telegram for your ma.” The operator shoved it in Sam’s hand. “I’m real sorry about your sister.” He scampered back toward the telegraph office.

Sam’s blood ran cold when he read the words … _“I am sorry to inform you of the death of Adah and Clarence Adams.”_ Crumbling the telegram, Sam fought to contain his emotions as he headed home.

~ • ~ • ~

Joshua sat at the desk he put in his room at the livery stable. Sam had relieved him of watching over his mother and sister now that the fugitive hunter was home. He was practicing some card tricks a red coated gambler had shown him in exchange for the good care he given his high-bred horse, when someone banged on the stable door. Shoving his pistol in the back of his belt, he cracked open the stable door.

“Help, y’all?” Joshua held the lantern, so he didn’t ruin his night vision.

“Hey, Kid. We need to put up our horses.”

Joshua’s blood ran cold when he saw the group of Blackstones. “Turn them loose in the corral. The stalls are full. I’ll let you put your saddles in the tack room.” He offered, not wanting them hanging around. He suddenly felt the urgent need to ride to the Chisholm’s but couldn’t leave until he got rid of the regulators.

Horses settled; he led his mare out of her stall. He’d saddled her and buckled on his gun belt while he was waiting for the Blackstones to carry their saddles into the tack room. He locked the doors behind him and urged his horse as fast as possible through Westport’s dark streets.

The Chisholm house was dark as were its neighbors. Joshua rode around the house toward the small stable where Sam kept his horse when he saw a body hanging from the ancient oak that shaded the house. Rushing over he saw Sam’s body twitching. Hoping he wasn’t too late; he slid out of the saddle and led his mare over to where he could get Sam in the saddle. It didn’t give them any slack in the rope, but it did get Sam’s weight off rope around his neck. Pulling his knife, he sliced the ropes binding Sam’s arms behind his back. Handing him the reins, he moved to shimmy up the tree.

He finally got the rope cut and helped Sam into the house. Settling the Warrant Officer on the sofa, he lit the lamp before heading for the kitchen for water and supplies to doctor Sam’s neck and wrists.

“Sam, where’s your mother and sister?” Joshua’s worry hadn’t stopped even after rescuing the older man.

“Blackstones jumped me when I came home from the Marshal’s office.” He whispered as Joshua cleaned the ugly wounds around his neck. “They beat, raped, drug them down the street toward the river behind their horses.” Sam’s damaged throat choked out his story.

Feeling his own throat close, Joshua blinked away the tears as he worked on his friend. “Bogue’s Blackstones?” Green eyes hardened when timid knocking interrupted the men’s conversation. He pulled a pistol and handed Sam the other. The bare outline of a dark face shown through the crack in the door. He relaxed when he recognized the Chisholm’s neighbor. “Mr. Williams?” Joshua opened the door to allow the elderly black man into the house.

“I done seen them Blackstones did but weren’t nothing I could do to help. I am sorry, Sam.” The old man wrung his hands.

“They would have killed you, too, Mr. Williams.” Joshua reassured the old man. “You know the river better than anyone, where might we find their bodies come morning.”

“Where it comes out of the bend just as the dividing line between Kansas and Missouri near touches the river bank.”

“Anyone have a wagon, or do I need to go back to the livery?” Joshua gave the old man a hard look.

“My son’s got a team and wagon. We’ll be here at first light to help you look.”

Joshua let the old man out then turned back to finish binding the wounds on Sam’s wrists. “I left a message for Ed. I can get Mama to come help take care of your mama and sister. We’ll need to wire your sister in Lincoln.” He offered.

“Thanks, Kid, but there’s no need to wire Lincoln. Marshall said it was Blackstones that killed a bunch of people in Lincoln including Adah and her man … Stole their land, too. You ought to go home. You don’t want to get on the bad side of Bogue, especially since a lot of them keep their horses at Ed’s livery.”

“No. They were my friends. Your mama …” Joshua choked up again. “If they do here what they’ve one to others, they’ll wait ‘til the funeral to burn the house while everyone’s at the cemetery.” He went to the kitchen to empty the basin of bloody water. “You should get some sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

“I …” Sam saw the stubborn look on the young face. You had to grow up fast in the Territories, so he gave a slight nod before heading up the stairs.

Though he was exhausted, Sam had no wish to close his eyes and watch the pictures of the rape and murder of the women in his family. Instead of sleeping, he pulled his mother’s Sunday dress and gloves out of her armoire before going to his sister’s room and doing the same. He wondered if anyone had done the same for Adah. He went to his room, packed his saddlebags, pulled out an extra set of bags and went through the house packing mementos of his family he wanted to keep. Tears welled in his eyes as he held his mother’s bible, but the rage at their deaths soon burned the tears away. He thought of the young man downstairs that couldn’t have loved his mother more than if she’d given birth to him. Maybe he’d ask Joshua to travel with him after the funeral. If he stayed, he probably end up in prison for the murder of Gunnar and Bartholomew Bogue.

Anticipating trouble from Bogue’s Blackstones, Sam loaded his belongings on his horse as he and Joshua followed the Williams’ wagon to the river. The bodies were close by where the elder Williams had anticipated. Wrapping the battered and mutilated bodies in canvas, the silent procession returned to the house. Maura Faraday and the women of the neighborhood were waiting to take care of the bodies while Sam and Joshua used the Williams’ wagon to retrieve two caskets.

The grave diggers were still shoveling dirt in the graves when Sam headed to the Marshals’ office with Joshua Faraday still riding at his side. He’d carefully tended the wounds hidden by Sam’s long black sleeves and the black cotton wild rag. Anxious to get away from the Kansas City area, he was going to ask his boss for a transfer to Wichita and the Indian Territories.

Leaving the Marshals’ headquarters, Sam cursed the weakness he was feeling due to his injuries. He knew he was pushing things, but he wanted to be out of sight of Bogue’s men. Maura and Ed had offered him a room over Maura’s seamstress shop to recuperate. Wanting more time to rest so he didn’t risk infection, or doing further damage to his throat, he agreed. Joshua rode with him to the bank where Sam ‘convinced’ the bank’s owner to buy the deed to his home for a fair price. He then withdrew every penny from the man’s bank and left him with a warning.

“If I find out you whispered in Bogue’s ear about the properties of all the Negroes that the Blackstones murdered, I’ll be back for a visit. I am after all, a duly sworn warrant officer and licensed peace officer.” Joshua stood behind Sam grinning, which caused the banker to break out in a sweat.

“I understand perfectly, Mr. Chisholm.”

He pulled at his starched collar as the two young men walked out of his bank. This was a nasty business and he was beginning to wish he’d never heard the name Bogue Consolidated.

The house was nearly empty as he’d told his neighbors to take what they wanted. He’d given all but one of his mother’s quilts to Maura. He folded one into his bed roll to keep the memory of his family traveling with him.

~ • ~ • ~

Ten days after burying his mother and sister, Sam Chisholm took the reins of his horse from Joshua Faraday. He frowned at his friend when he saw the gear piled by the door.

“You’re not coming back?” The green eyes that turned back to Sam were filled with sadness.

“Nope. Had the Marshals transfer me down to Wichita. I stay around here I’ll be hell bent on taking out Bogue and his Blackstones, and all that will get me is dead or in jail.”

“Want a partner?” Joshua’s tone was hopeful.

“Not now. I’ve got a powerful lot of grieving to do, and you’ve still got some growing to do.” He led Horse over to his pile of belongings.

Sam looked out the corner of his eye as he bent to pick up his saddle bags. He saw the storm brewing as his young friend’s temper sparked. Joshua Faraday had a sunny disposition, but a flash fire Irish temper. After fastening his saddle bags, he moved to his bed roll. By the time he was hooking the second set of saddle bags over his saddle horn, Joshua had wrestled his anger and disappointment under control.

“Watch your back, Brother.” He held his hand out to the black Warrant Officer.

“I will.” He pulled Joshua in for a brief hug. “Don’t be too quick to leave home. Appreciate what you have.” Sam admonished him.

“I will. Stop by if you’re back this way.”

Sam swung up on his horse and pulling on the brim of his hat rode away from the livery stable. Little did either of the young men know they would both be very different men the next time they met.

**_~ Chapter 2 ~ August 1865 ~_ **

Ed Malone shuffled his boys into the room by the tack room, that once been used by his wife’s son by her first husband, when an exhausted man riding an exhausted horse stopped in the front of the livery. The war had ended a month ago, but there were still desperate men doing horrific things to those who hadn’t been on their side of the war. He took in the man’s appearance from his flat topped hat to his two gun rig and several bulges under his coat.

The stranger stepped down off his gray mare, and stopped to give a few minutes of affection to the animal before his attention moved to Ed.

“Help you mister?” Ed’s tone was cautious.

“Hope so. Looking for a bed for me and Pearl.”

“Plenty of room for your horse. Might try the hotel down the end of the street for yourself.” Ed started to reach for the mare’s reins until the animal flattened her ears and curled her lips.

“Appreciate it. Just show me which stall, and I’ll take care of her. She’s a mite particular about strange people touching her.” The man tipped back his hat causing Ed to catch his breath.

“Joshua?”

“Yeah. How you been, Ed? How’s my ma?”

“Your ma’s good. She’s at her shop with your sister.” He motioned to his boys.

“Sister?” Joshua Faraday looked past Ed to see the two boys headed his way.

“JOSHUA!” They ran toward him to grab him around the legs.

“I’m surprised they remember me. Y’all were just little fellas when I left.” The man squatted down to hug his half-brothers. “Looks like you made it through the war alright.”

“Kept our heads down. Didn’t take sides. The battles didn’t get too close. You boys put feed and hay in the stall next to Doc Gordon’s horse.” He told the youngsters. “You’ll be coming home with me. Your ma’s been worried.”

“Got room to put me up for a while? I can even sleep in my old room here.”

“You want me sleeping on the couch. We put an addition on the house while your ma was carrying Josie, so we have plenty of room at the house.” Ed chuckled as Joshua led Pearl to the stall the boys fixed for her.

“Let me get Pearl settled and make a trip to the bathhouse, and I’ll go see Ma.” Joshua loosened his bedroll and saddle bags.

“It’s good to have you home, Son.” Ed patted him on the back before he went to see what mischief his young sons were getting into. They were way too quiet.

Giving the mare a good rub down, Joshua pulled his saddlebags off his saddle after hanging it in the tack room and headed into town.

~ • ~ • ~

Having the bath house to himself, it didn’t take long for Joshua to scrub off the trail dirt and climb into his last set of clean clothes. Leaving his dirty clothes at the laundry, to be delivered to the seamstress’ shop, he headed there himself.

He had a few minutes to look around the shop since his mother had yelled that she would be just a minute. He placed his hat on the counter while he waited. When she appeared it was with an auburn haired toddler that looked to be around a year and a half old on her hip. Joshua took note of the new wrinkles and threads of gray in his mother’s dark hair that had appeared since he’d last been home.

“How can I … Joshua!” She quickly put the little girl on the floor before running to embrace her adult son.

“Hi, Ma.” He hugged her so tight, he was sure he heard her ribs creak. “Missed you.” He whispered against her hair.

“How are you? Are you home for good? Are you hurt anywhere? Have you seen Ed? Of course you’ve seen Ed. You probably left your horse at the livery.” She prattled on as she patted him down looking for bandages or tender spots.

“I’m fine, Ma. I was one of the lucky ones. Just some minor wounds … Nothing serious.” Joshua assured his mother as he turned his attention to his half-sister. “Who is this little darlin’?” He squatted down to the toddler’s level.

“This is Claire Etain Malone. Come into the back. I’m sure you haven’t eaten.”

She picked up the toddler and herded Joshua through the curtain to where a small cookstove warmed the shop and gave Maura a place to heat water for coffee and tea, and some basic cooking. Joshua got acquainted with his half-sister while his mother poured him a cup of coffee and set a sandwich at his elbow as Claire played with his watch fob.

“This should hold you until supper.” Maura poured herself a cup of coffee and set across the small table from her son. “How long are you staying?”

“I don’t know. I just wanted somewhere safe to rest for a while before I decide what’s next.” He fed Claire a bite of his sandwich. “You ever hear anything from Sam Chisholm?” He asked as if he wasn’t really interested in the answer.

“No. You might ask Ed since some of them Warrant Officers keep their horses at the livery while they’re in town.” Memories of the family clouded her eyes. “You take all the time you need getting settled. This is your home.” Maura reached across the table to lay a hand on his arm.

“We’ll see what happens.” Joshua refused to meet his mother’s eyes.

Before she could press him further the bell over the shop’s door jangled, signaling a customer.

~ • ~ • ~

Sitting at the card table in the saloon, Joshua chewed on his cheroot as he studied his cards. It had been a good night since the men around the table were more interested in talking about the construction of the Union Pacific Railroad than playing cards. A three or four day ride north on a paddle boat up the Missouri River and you were practically guaranteed a job.

Joshua had helped repair railroad tracks at different times during the war and had no desire to spend from daylight to dark swinging a nine pound hammer, being treated like a slave and insulted for being Irish by the road boss. The sargeant over his squad of irregular Calvary had been an ass, who instead of learning his men’s names had called them by their ethnicity, though it made it confusing when there were several men of the same origins, expecting them to answer. Then he used every slang name he’d ever heard. Joshua had been called Red Mick for three months before the man had broken his neck when his horse was shot from under him during a skirmish in Arkansas. The slow smile that spread across his face didn’t have anything to do with the two pair he was holding, but it caused everyone at the table to fold anyway. Where there were working men and women, there was money to be made without physical labor.

Knowing his mother would be disappointed he wasn’t making plans to settle close to home, he waited until his plans were in motion before telling her and Ed. He waited until the kids were asleep and Maura joined him and Ed on the front porch enjoying their cigars as the evening began to cool down.

“I’m leaving in two days.” He announced.

“Joshua, why would you do that? I thought you were glad to be home.” His mother frowned at him.

“I was … Am.” He took a sip from the glass of whiskey sitting on the step beside him. “It’s time for me to move on … Make my own way.”

“You can do that here. Find a nice girl, have a family.” She insisted.

“I’m not ready for that, Ma. I’m still working on getting the War out of my head. I’m not fit company for some genteel little gal. This is your and Ed’s home made for your family.”

“Joshua Faraday, Ed’s been nothing but good to you.” His mother spat.

“And I appreciate how good he’s been to you and gave you the family you always wanted. He could have been a real bastard and tossed me out of the house as soon as you got married.”

“You’re like my own, Joshua. You’ll always have a home where we are.” Ed’s tone was quiet, and Joshua appreciated his support.

“I know that, and you’ve taught me a lot, and you’ve given my ma a good life. I guess the Calvary gave me itchy feet. I just need to get out there and go.”

“Try to pass through town once in a while or write to let us know how you are.” Ed reached out to pat him on the shoulder.

“I’m thinking of going west, so I don’t know if I’ll get back this way much, but I can promise to try to write.” He ducked his head to hide his emotions.

“Edddd … you’re supposed to be on my side.” Maura complained.

“You can’t keep the boy where he don’t want to be, Woman. He’s a man grown. I’d rather he leave knowing he’s welcome back anytime.”

“Of course he’s welcome back.” Maura flounced back through the door and could be heard straightening the public rooms of the house.

“Don’t pay your ma no mind. She worries.”

“I know. No one here remembers Maura Faraday, and that should protect y’all for anything that might follow me from back East.”

Ed nodded his head in understanding. “War does things to people … Most of them not good.”

“Come on. I think your ma’s got some cake left from other night.”

Joshua followed Ed back inside the house, pushing everything else to the back of his mind and simply enjoying the short time he had left with his family.

**_~ Chapter 3 ~_ **

The river boat trip to Council Bluffs was uneventful as Joshua spent the time enjoying sitting on the deck watching the other river traffic and life along the shore. Evenings were full of sipping whiskey and poker … Though he won more than lost, tempers remained calm though several players were far in to their cups. After being constantly on the move for most of the past four years, Pearl was cranky about being cooped up in her stall for so long, so Joshua made sure to spend extra time with the mare to keep her soothed.

Council Bluffs was crowded, dusty, filled with wagon trains heading to Oregon, freight wagons hauling supplies out to the railroad camps, along with gamblers, whores, thieves, and flim-flam artists. It was not a place to relax your guard or you’d find yourself with a knife in the back and your body picked clean.

Joshua found he enjoyed the impromptu games in the temporary bars at the edge of town. The professional gamblers were more likely to be found in town rather than in the ‘low brow’ canvas tent saloons frequented by freight drivers and railroad workers. Though he drank, Joshua made sure he didn’t get drunk. That was a good way to wake up without your boots, guns or money. He’d learned that lesson the hard way while scouting through the Ozarks with a hellish hangover.

**_~ Flashback ~_ **

Early in the war, he been briefly captured by a squad of Confederate Calvary as he scouted ahead of his own squad. Due to his homespun clothes, they thought he was from a nearby farm, so were only interested in his horse and guns. Leaving him bruised and battered on the side of the road, Joshua had pulled himself together, and out of pure stubbornness trailed the squad until they settled for the night. After they settled for the night, he killed the guard on the horses, tightened the cinches on the three closest horses, and took the guard’s weapons. He crept closer to the camp checking for anything else he could take without alerting the soldiers. Luck remained with him as he was able to catch their food cache, they’d hung in a tree away from nocturnal animals. Tying the food bag to one of the spare horses, he led them into the woods as the Confederate camp slept on. Once far enough away, he mounted the gray mare, who happened to be wearing his saddle and returned to his own camp. Several days later, they had defeated the Confederate squad, but there had been no sign of his father’s guns. Joshua still carried the one’s he’d stolen from the guard … The man must have come from money to have such new pistols. They had served him well, and Joshua still carried them.

After a week, the faces began to look familiar, and the restlessness was back, so Joshua loaded Pearl on a southbound riverboat and headed back to Kansas City. He stopped long enough to put flowers on the graves of the Chisholm women before turning south toward Wichita. If he was lucky, he might catch up with Sam and ride out with the Warrant Officer for a while.

He spent a night in the Wichita jail when he punched a deputy Marshall for making a snide remark about Chisholm before heading in the general direction the older man had been travelling when he left Wichita.

~ • ~ • ~

Riding along the top of Black Mesa, Sam Chisholm kept his horse pointed toward the faint wisps of smoke he saw every once in a while. A smile crossed his face when Horse’s head came up and his ears swiveled forward. He paused at the top of a small rise when he saw the herd of horses spread across the top of the mesa. The young men guarding the horses were alerted to his presence when the lead mare raised her head to watch the intruders. Keeping his hands in sight, Sam started down the hill toward the herd.

“Marúawe.” He stopped a respectful distance from the young man. “Nu nahnia tsa, Sam Chisholm. Tekwaru Jonathan Nocona?” The teenager pointed in the direction of a lodge sitting at the eastern edge of camp. “Urako.” Sam gave him a nod as he kneed Horse to move through the herd toward Jonathan’s lodge.

Six months after his family’s murder, Sam had been shot through the side by one of his bounties. He turned in the body to the nearest town with a sheriff, replenished his supplies and headed out of town. Though he’d taken care to keep his wound clean and packed with healing herbs, he was having trouble keeping it clear of infection.

A Comanche warrior found the warrant officer, weak with fever, but trying to defend himself as a shaking hand lifted his revolver. He watched the black man for several minutes until the last of his strength left his arm and the revolver dropped onto his bedroll. Keeping his hands clear of his weapons, the Comanche slid off his horse and approached Sam’s dying fire.

“How did you become ill?”

Surprised that the Indian knew English, Sam laid back against his saddle. “Took a bullet through the side. It got infected.” He pulled his shirt up to show his bandaged wound. “Where’d you learn English?”

“The black robes that traveled with the Cherokee have spread through our land like locusts, but they have been useful in teaching us the ways of the white men. I am called Jonathan Nocona.”

“Sam Chisholm, duly sworn warrant officer out of Wichita, Kansas and bonded peacekeeper in seven other States including the Indian Territories. You’re not going to kill me?”

Jonathan sat back on his heels and laughed. “The only thing I was thinking to kill today was a nice size deer that waters here. He would feed my family for many days. I will stay with you and watch. When he comes to drink, we shall both be blessed with his sacrifice.”

“It will good to have company while I recuperate.” Sam pulled his blanket over his chilled torso. “Someone to keep watch as I sleep. Since the priests taught an Indian English … Perhaps an Indian can teach a black man Comanche.” He gave his new companion a weak smile as sleep claimed the exhausted man.

The next few days saw Jonathan helping Sam as his fever broke and his wound continued to heal. Rich stew made from rabbit and tubers growing along the riverbank helped build his strength after his fever. On the fifth day of his convalescence, Sam knew enough Comanche to not get killed and request hospitality of the camp, and Nocona got his deer. A large eight point buck that no part but the entrails would go unused. Lashing the deer to a makeshift travois, and helping Sam climb into the saddle, Jonathan Nocona took his new friend home to meet his family.

~ • ~ • ~

Sam had spent six months with the Nocona family healing in both body and spirit. His heart still cried for vengeance against Bartholomew Bogue and the Blackstones, but he no longer sought out the bullet that would send him to meet his family on the other side. He had visited before he left to join the Union Army, and with his service to his country ended he had rejoined the Marshals as a warrant officer before returning to Oklahoma to visit his friends.

As he neared the lodge, Jonathan’s eldest child, Kimama, called to her mother and siblings. Jonathan’s wife, Haiwee greeted Sam as he stepped down from his horse.

“It is good to see you, Sam Chisholm. Jonathan has worried for you since you left to fight the white man’s war.”

“It’s good to back.” He began pulling packages out of his saddle bags. “Where is Jonathan? Has something happened … The village seems smaller.” He handed the packages to Haiwee.

“Many have moved to Ft. Sill. There has been much talk of war between the young warriors and settlers. Jonathan has been travelling as a scout with the Army in an attempt to talk peacefully. Much of the trouble comes from the south in Texas. When he returns home, we will decide if we are to move.”

“Does the Army listen to Jonathan’s counsel?” Sam removed his coffee pot from his saddle bags and set a pot to boil as Haiwee unwrapped the packages.

“For now. They believe him more civilized because he learned the white man’s lessons from the black robes.”

“How about I stay in the area until Jonathan gets back?”

“The children will enjoy the time with their uncle.” Haiwee ran her hands over the cotton material and ribbons Sam had brought with him. “Thank you for your generous gifts. I will see my husband well clothed as he helps deal with the problems of our people.”

The children helped their Uncle Sam construct a lean-to for protection against the elements. Settling his gear, he smiled watching the children construct a firepit and lead his black mare out to run with the camp’s herd. He actually felt himself relaxing in a way that he hadn’t since the beginning of the war. Looking down at the three expectant faces waiting for what was next, he gave them a wide smile.

“I suppose since I have this wonderful camp and well-made firepit, it’s time to find something to make a fire.”

“This way, Uncle. There is plenty of firewood near the creek.” The three trotted off expecting Sam to follow.”

Grabbing his canteens, he settled his hat on his head and followed his small charges.

~ • ~ • ~

Jonathan Nocona’s eyes narrowed as he took in any changes in his tribe’s camp since he’d left two moons previous. The lean-to placed close to his family’s lodge brought a frown to his rugged face until he saw an extra black horse running with the herd. His spirit lifted at proof that his friend had returned from the white man’s war. With a smile, Nocona kneed his horse into a jog. He was anxious to see his old friend and relay a bit of news from the fort.

Sitting among his family, he counted his blessings that his tribe and friends had been unaffected by troubles in Texas. Once the children had been settled for the night, the Army scout shared his experiences with the tribe.

“Are you moving your family to Ft. Sill?” Sam asked after the meeting had broken up for the evening.

“Yes. I don’t want to give the Army any reason to look this way. There are many good men that do not agree with your government’s stance on the tribes, but there are many men on both sides with something twisted inside giving them pleasure in killing for the sake of the killing. Plus I will have more time with Haiwee and the children if they are near the fort.”

“I hunt those men every day.” Sam nodded his agreement. “Being in the Army gives them a place to hide their perversion.”

“Sadly, the days of wandering the lands, following the herds is coming to an end. The hunters have killed most of the buffalo, so there are no herds to follow. We will have to raise cattle instead of hunting.”

“Guard your horses well, old friend. Some would see you dependent on the government for your means of living.” Sam warned.

“Speaking of hunting … There was a young white man with hair the color of my favorite red bay stallion who talked to distract the watchers from his true intent. Broad, strong young man. Good card player … Honest for one of that type. Did not care about the color of skin, only the color of money. He was asking if you had been through the area recently.”

“Did he give you a name, and what did you tell him?”

“The truth. That I had not seen such a person. His name matched the flame that danced in his hair … Faraday. Yes. That was the name he gave.”

“Him and his ma were our neighbors. They were good friends to me and my family. Last I heard he was fighting with a group of irregular Calvary. I’m glad to know he made it through the war. He was a high spirited young’un … Doubt that’s changed much. Tended to wind up in the middle of things.”

“I have seen this with the bands of warriors I scout. It is hard to hunt the spirited young men who hate the loss of freedom, but change is upon us. If every tribe came together it would not be enough to slow the wave of whites lusting for the land. I fear our best chance is to drive a hard bargain and hope your Uncle Sam honors his contracts.”

“I’ll travel with you. I see a nice looking gelding in your herd that I’d be interested in buying. My mare’s been a valiant companion for six years. I think it’s time to give her a rest, maybe pass on her good sense to a few babies.” Sam smiled at his friend.

“He’s a good horse, only five years-old. It should not take long for him to learn to carry your saddle. She is a fine looking mare. I believe we can work a deal.”

“I’ll expect one of her line in five or six years.” Sam held out his hand.

“Add twenty dollars and we have a deal.” Jonathan grabbed his forearm in a warrior’s grasp as the men reached an agreement.

“Perhaps your young friend will still be at the Fort.”

“Perhaps.” Sam hid his expression by turning his attention to the youngster tugging on his pants.

The men soon settled at the lodge’s cookfire with Haiwee to begin planning their move to Ft. Sill.

~ • ~ • ~

Having no luck find Sam at Ft. Sill, Joshua took his winnings and fresh supplies and continued south. He figured he and Sam would stumble over each other eventually, but in the meantime, there was liquor to be drunk and cards to be played.

In Wichita Falls, Texas, the cattlemen’s association was looking for extra hands to drive their cattle to the stockyards in Fort Worth. They stopped at several ranges along the way to add cattle to the drive. After fourteen days on the trail, Joshua collected a nice pay for a bit of work and not having to use his supplies on a trip he was taking anyway. When the Ramrod had seen Joshua’s way with horses, he’d put the young man in charge of the trail drive’s remuda getting the gambler out of riding drag for most of the trip.

The Ramrod, Gideon Evans, told Faraday to look for him at the stockyards before leaving town, he had a job offer for him. With a grin and a tip of his hat, the Irishman headed for the bath house before getting a room at the boarding house. A bath and a hot meal later, Joshua was ready to find the nearest saloon with a card game.

His winnings were a several dollars lighter when he returned to his room. No one warned him whores in the big city wanted waaaay more money than he was accustomed to paying, but the Madame ran a clean business, so he wasn’t going to complain about what he didn’t catch. Enjoying a night on a feather bed, Joshua was sitting on the porch enjoying a cheroot with his coffee deciding if he wanted to talk to Evans, or head south towards the border. After he put a little more money in his pocket, maybe he’d head west. It’d be interesting to see where all those settlers that went through Westport ended their trip.

Collecting Pearl from the livery, Faraday headed for the stockyards. The quicker he knew Evans’ offer, the quicker he could decide if he was headed south or west. Maybe he’d flip a coin. It was as good a way as any to make a decision. He found Evans looking over a pen of red and white cattle called Herefords, that rumor said come all the way from England.

“Faraday!” Evans kneed his horse toward Joshua.

“Mr. Evans, came to find out about this offer you got for me.” He took another drag off his cheroot.

“We’re all going to be heading home tomorrow, so the men that are going back to their home ranches are going to lend a hand ‘til Antelope where me and my boys will head to my ranch a day’s ride west of Archer City. While we were making his drive, my foreman took the rest of the men to bring the ranch’s two-year-olds in off the range along with any mustangs they can gather up. The War killed a lot of horses, and the Army’s paying top dollar. I need a good horse breaker, and I think you’re the man to fill the job.” Surprised at the offer, Joshua was silent for a bit longer than Evans was willing to wait. “Pays forty dollars a month along with a bunk and your meals.”

“You got yourself a deal, Mr. Evans.” Joshua gave his new boss a wide grin as they shook hands.

At the end of three months, he’d been bit, kicked, had his toes stomped, and his ribs bruised, but he was proud of the animals he’d trained to saddle. Evans, looking for a few new mares had offered Joshua his pick of the geldings in exchange for Pearl. He traded the gray mare for a blaze face chestnut that had plenty of spunk, good sense, and was constantly nosing his pockets for bits of tobacco.

Not wanting to spend the winter in the Texas panhandle, Faraday helped with the fall round-up before collecting his pay and heading toward El Paso.

~ • ~ • ~

He probably would have made El Paso before Thanksgiving, but any town with a good size saloon would draw his attention for a day or two as he honed his gambling skills. He also spent time along the trail working with Jake. He could rope and shoot off the young horse, but he continued to work until the gelding was rock steady at whatever Joshua ask of him. 

Sitting at the poker table in Carlsbad, New Mexico, he noticed the gentlemen on his right bottom dealing. Rather than cause a ruckus, he made his excuses while gathering his winnings off the table.

“The evening is still young, Sir, surely you needn’t depart so soon.” The dealer’s lips smiled, but his eyes glared.

“As I need to get an early start in the morning, I believe I know best when I need to retire.” Faraday’s hand rested on Maria as he stared down the older man. He stepped back from the table.

Finally understanding that he had not been as subtle as he believed with his bottom dealing, the man paled a bit as he backed off pressuring Faraday to stay.

“I bid you good evening.” He dropped his eyes away from the younger man.

“Y’all have a good game.” Joshua stepped back to where he could watch the table as he walked toward to swinging doors.

Once back at his hotel, he ordered a glass of whiskey at the hotel bar and retired to the porch with a fresh cigar. He had just started to relax from the near confrontation when the scrape of a boot had him puling and aiming Maria at a silhouetted form off to his right.

“No need for your firearm good sir, I merely wish to enjoy my excellent cigar and whiskey.” The shadowed form stepped into the light.

“Plenty of room.” Faraday motioned to the empty wicker chair across from him.

“I admire the restraint you showed in the saloon. Most people would have shot the man and been done with it.” The light revealed a handsome face to go with the soft southern drawl as the man settled in the chair.

“I didn’t want to get blood splatter on my last pair of clean pants.” Joshua’s grin was feral. “Joshua Faraday.” He held out his hand.

“Goodnight Robicheaux.” He chuckled at Joshua’s comment.

Green eyes lit up but seeing the trepidation in the blue eyes watching him, Joshua took a sip from his glass. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Are you riding out in the morning or were you merely manufacturing an excuse for that poor excuse for a gambler?”

“I am. I admit to a bit of aimless wandering since the war. I rode into the Indian Territories hoping to find an old friend, but as I’ve met with little success, I decided to head south out of the winter then maybe go see why all them wagon train folks wanted to go to California.”

“If you truly want to escape the winter season, I invite you to travel with me to enjoy the warmth of Gulf of Mexico in Corpus Christi. Having a companion in my travels would put my mind at ease should there be hostiles encountered in my travels.”

“Since I imagine such places have plenty of saloons and poker games, it’d be my pleasure to travel with you Mr. Robicheaux … To give you peace of mind, of course.” Faraday grinned.

The men talked until the whiskey and cigars disappeared. “I’ll be picking up the supplies I ordered at Mercantile after breakfast.” Joshua offered.

“I, too, have placed an order, so we shall enjoy our last civilized meal for a while before retrieving our orders and being on our way.”

“’Til the morning.” Faraday gave Robicheaux a two fingered salute as he retired to his room.

~ • ~ • ~

Joshua didn’t realize how lonely his life was until he began travelling with Goodnight. The man could talk the ear off a cornstalk, but his smooth Louisiana drawl kept him from not minding so much. By silent agreement the first night they met, neither men talked about the war though they were aware of each other’s reputation … Goodnight Robicheaux as the legendary Confederate sniper, The Angel of Death, and Joshua Faraday’s reputation for his traps and stealing supplies out from under the fences and the noses of guards.

About ten days out of Carlsbad, they decided to take a couple days in the dusty town of Leakey, Texas. Hot baths, laundry, and a real bed were the order of the day as they tied their horses at the hitching rack in front of the hotel/saloon. A double shot of whiskey sounded like a good way to clear the dust out of their throats before they got down to business.

Shouts coming from the saloon caused them to quicken their steps. They found most of the men and a few women standing around the edge of the room watching a scruffy looking cow hand and one of the prettiest men Joshua had ever seen. His smooth skin had a yellow tone and his dark eyes were shaped like nothing he’d never seen before.

“Where you reckon that fella comes from?” The watched as the men engaged in a bare knuckle brawl.

“I daresay he comes from one of the Oriental countries like China or Japan.” Goodnight continued to watch the slender man.

They watched money changing hands with a man who seemed to be calling the shots. At the end of each contest the man would hand money to the winner. The longer the contests continued, the more frustrated the cowhands were becoming until all the challengers were nursing their wounds and egos as the smaller man started to walk away.

Seeing the look on his last opponent’s face everyone moved out of the line of fire. A slim hand covered with a half-fingered glove reached for the swinging doors as the cow hand reached for his gun.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, ‘ol son.” Goodnight drawled. The cowboy turned to see a pistol pointed at him. “It’s impolite to shoot your opponent in the back because you’re a sore loser.” The crowd stepped back when they noticed Faraday keeping watch on the other man’s back. “Are you clear the door, my good man?” Goodnight asked.

“I am.”

“Let us adjourn to another drinking establishment for a celebratory drink?” Robicheaux grinned wide at everyone as he and Faraday flanked the smaller man. “Goodnight Robicheaux at your service and my traveling companion, Joshua Faraday.”

“Billy Rocks.” He looked confused at the two white men.

“Nice assortment of pig stickers.” Joshua winked at the man.

Before the Oriental man could gather his wits, he’d been plied with whiskey, dinner, and a shared room in the hotel. Joshua had returned to the saloon in search of a poker game while Goodnight and Billy sat on the hotel balcony enjoying their whiskey and cigars.

“I realize Joshua and myself have been a bit zealous in making your acquaintance, but we felt it would be for the best to keep that disagreeable young man from shooting you in the back.”

“I would have got him first.” Billy muttered.

“As may be. It probably would have led to a great deal of pain on your part.” He fidgeted with his cigar before lighting it. “Would you share your story, Mr. Rocks?” Goodnight’s tone was coy.

“I came from Korea with the promise of good wages for working on the railroads. It was more like slavery than a job. I walked away six months ago, and I’ve been putting my other talents to work since.”

“We will be departing this hamlet the day after tomorrow. We would welcome your company on our journey to Corpus Christi.”

“It would probably be better if I leave.”

“As I tend to suffer nightmares, it might be best for you to share Joshua’s room.”

“I may have something that can help with that.” Billy’s smile was sunny as he pulled a cigarette case out of his pocket.

Confused, Goodnight had never heard of a cigarette that helped night terrors, but he was game to try anything that would help him sleep. Taking the smoke deep in his lungs, he felt the anxiety begin to flow from his body. After the third drag, he extinguished the cherry and tucked the remainder in his vest pocket.

“My god, what’s in that tobacco? I have never known a tobacco with relaxing properties.”

“It’s laced with a bit of opium. Just enough to give you quiet dreams.”

“I have seen many a man become addicted to the beautiful poppy during the war.”

“It is all in the amount. Smoke your cigars during the day … Save the cigarettes for when you are winding down your day.”

“Excellent idea. It will lift a burden from Joshua if I can sleep the night through.”

“You and Joshua are … Close?” Billy looked out the corner of his eye.

“Not in the way you’re suggesting.” Robicheaux arched an eyebrow at the Korean. “Though he is a comely young man, he is just beginning to find himself after fighting in a horrific war. I have no need to take someone to raise.” He gave Billy a look heavy with innuendo.

“But if he learned a little something in his travels.” Rocks’ smile was more leer than humor.

“Ah yes, the school of life. I shall have to inquire about an oil with which to moisturize my sensitive skin when we visit the mercantile before we leave.” Goodnight chuckled as the men began to prepare to settle for the night.

~ • ~ • ~

Using the ruse of studying his cards, Joshua studied the men sitting around the table. From the amount of Busthead being poured and the sour looks, he figured it was about time for him to retire for the evening. He’d given Goodnight and Rocks plenty of time to scratch any itches they were pondering, so it should be safe to return to his room. Chewing his cigar thoughtfully, he watched the two players still in the hand show their cards. The man with three tens smiled his broken toothed smile at his opponent showing a pair of queens.

“Not so fast, Gentlemen.” Faraday laid down his full house. “I believe I have taken the day.” He raked the pot toward him. He handed a coin to the woman standing behind him. “Treat my friends to a drink, Darlin’.”

He’d tucked his winnings away by the time the woman passed the fresh drinks around the table. He slipped an arm around her waist and with a wink and a leer to the remaining poker players headed up the stairs. At the door leading to the outside stairs, Faraday slipped her a silver dollar and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks, Darlin’.” He slipped out the door, down the steps, and back to the hotel with no one being the wiser.

At the hotel, he peeked through the connecting door to Goodnight’s room. Seeing Rocks sitting in the window seat while Goodnight was sitting against the headboard with his legs stretched in front of him.

“Just checking in.” Joshua touched the brim of his hat in a salute. “Good night.” He pulled the door shut as he withdrew into his room.

“He may be more observant than you thought.” Billy smirked at his new friend.

“Indeed.” The sharpshooter looked thoughtful.

The new friends sat for another hour trading stories and sharing one last opium laced cigarette. They stretched out together on the bed, The Angel of Death sleeping peacefully through the night for the first time in years.

~ • ~ • ~

Until they continued their ride toward Corpus Christi, either Joshua or Goodnight accompanied Billy whenever he ventured out of the hotel rooms. Finally their horses were reshod, their laundry clean, and supplies replenished. Both Joshua and Billy were leaving town with their pockets fuller than when they entered town. Only a week from their destination, Joshua was looking forward to staying in one spot more than a day or two.

Their days passed furthering their acquaintance, trading stories of the road, and Goodnight and Billy subtly flirting with each other. Faraday often walked out in the evenings to hunt meat for the pot giving the two men time alone. Watching the two convinced Joshua he would take in the gambling tables of Corpus Christi for a few days before he rode on alone. He was sure Rocks and Robicheaux would survive just fine on their own.

Goodnight Robicheaux was in heaven. Their hotel had indoor plumbing with bathtubs that filled by turning a handle as opposed to hauling buckets of water up flights of stairs. For though he could survive in the wilds with the best of men, he still preferred his creature comforts.

He and Billy were sharing a bed as near paramours as opposed to two strangers sharing a room. Faraday indulged them acting like infatuated saps in the privacy of the trail and in their suite of rooms. Joshua himself seemed to be spending more time in the gambling dens than anywhere. Goodnight spared him a bit of worry, but the man seemed to win more often than he lost. He had grown fond of the young man and did not wish him to feel like a third wheel, but the exotic Billy Rocks had grabbed his attention. Most days it was all he could do to pay attention to the mundane things. Determined he and Billy should spend the evening with Joshua, Goodnight settled on the chaise lounge with one of his favorite books since he had been left alone while Billy and Joshua were out attending to various errands.

~ • ~ • ~

The three men had the privacy of being the only people dining on the veranda. The torches kept the mosquitos at bay as the men enjoyed their steak and seafood dinners. Goodnight leaned back in his chair rubbing his belly as he lit a cigar.

“Excellent supper.” He reached for his tumbler of whiskey. “How are you finding your first taste of the winter season in south Texas, Joshua?”

“Rich fools who throw a lot of money at poker and pretty senoritas. What’s not to like?” Humor flashed in green eyes. “There’s only so many card games a man can play before it gets a bit tiresome, so I signed on for a job over at the King Ranch.”

Goodnight sat up to pay attention to what Faraday was saying. “A job doing what?”

“It seems since President Johnson disbanded the Texas Rangers as part of the plan for Reconstruction, the banditos are hitting the ranches along the border hard. The Rangers kept the rustlers in check, but now they’re hiring their own guns to protect their herds.

“You’re hiring on as a Regulator?” Billy seemed to perk up at the idea.

“Yeah. Probably stay until King gets a herd together for a drive to the railheads in Abilene. They pay top dollar.” Joshua swirled his whiskey at he studied the bottom of his glass.

“I don’t want to follow a cow anywhere, but I wouldn’t mind hiring on as a Regulator.” Billy’s expression held a feral quality that caused Goodnight’s pulse to quicken.

“I suppose it would not hurt to accompany Joshua and inquire as whether they could use two more guns.” Robicheaux winked at the Korean.

Goodnight’s prediction turned out to be true when the next morning they approached Richard King and his kineños in the hotel dining room. Two days later the three men were riding west as newly minted Regulators for the King Ranch.

~ • ~ • ~

The men were assigned a herd of cows and calves on the southern border of the ranch. They had the ‘luxury’ of a semi-permanent camp with a chuckwagon, so the food was better than the usual trail fare. It also meant they had tents instead of sleeping exposed to the weather.

There were occasion skirmishes where rustlers cut the fences and tried to drive the cattle through but being chased by Regulators soon had them looking for easier pickings. Joshua was practicing his sleight of hand and card tricks in an attempt to work the stiffness out of his right arm. A rustler’s wild shot had caught Faraday in the bicep, limiting him to guarding the camp for the past week. With spring coming to upper Rio Grande valley, the younger man would be heading to the main headquarters for the ranch to begin the spring round-up and branding in preparation for the driving a herd north to Abilene.

They would be taking the herd they’d been guarding through the winter with them to brand and vaccinate the calves that had been born, and then moving them to summer pastures. Goodnight and Billy had talked it over and decided when they got to the main ranch, they would collect their pay and move on.

Thankful every day that he and Faraday had run into Billy. Whenever they passed through a town large enough to have an Oriental population, the Korean was able to obtain the opium needed to keep the ghosts of Goodnight’s time as a sniper locked in the dungeons of his mind. Whenever their supply would get low, the anxiety of the nightmares returning would sit on his shoulders until Billy would return from whichever Chinatown he visited. It was definitely time to get back to the more civilized parts of the country.

The two men had cemented their relationship when they made plans for them to make money off Billy’s fighting abilities while Goodnight acted as his manager. The men that bet on such sporting events would be less likely to attempt to cheat The Angel of Death than a slant eyed Chinaman.

Though such words turned his stomach, he had learned that expressing his opinion of such matters often lead to unpleasant consequences to him. Though his family never owned a slave, Goodnight learned to keep his views behind his teeth so long as he continued to live in the South. Had it not been for his father dragging him to enlistment office, Goodnight Robicheaux would never have donned the gray of the Confederate Army. He would have stayed on their farm on the edge of the bayou with the hope of surviving the war mostly intact. Instead the military had taken his skills that put meat on their table and perverted them to cause enemy deaths. Being a sniper was much more personal than being another body on the battlefield. Snipers had specific targets. They became known to him. He knew their names … Their faces … Their schedules, and sometimes even their families.

The scent of burning tobacco wafted under his nose and pulled him out of his thoughts. Taking the cigarette from his companion, he rewarded the man that saved his sanity with a smile warm as an August day on bayou. When Faraday rolled his eyes at their interaction, Rocks elbowed him in the ribs earning the Korean a good natured glare.

Two days later, their portion of the King Ranch herd was safely ensconced in corrals ready to be branded, and Billy and Goodnight had made their goodbyes to Joshua before heading to the small town that had begun to grow close to the headquarters for the ranch to find a hotel and more privacy than they’d had for the past six months.

Leaning against the corral fence, Joshua watched Goodnight and Billy ride away. He started to rub the twinge in his chest watching his friends ride away, but mindful of the people standing around, his hand continued from his chest to his healing arm. With one last look, he went in search of the foreman.

~ • ~ • ~

It was a battle scarred and trail weary herd and drovers that entered the cattle pens in Abilene, Texas nearly three months after Faraday watched Rocks and Robicheaux ride away. He now had scars from a Comanche’s arrow on his right side and on his left forearm from a bullet that would have wounded Jake if his arm hadn’t deflected its trajectory. They’d lost at least fifty head of cattle and nearly a dozen horses out of the remuda to rustlers and Indian war parties. Joshua was so glad to see the dusty cattle town, he barely waited for the gate to shut behind the last steer before he was headed for the hotel.

Once he had a room, he took Jake to the hotel’s stable where he gave the horse a good feed and rubdown. Next on his list was a bath then a hot meal that didn’t include beans. The poker tables could wait until he collected his pay and didn’t feel rode hard and put up wet.

After breakfast and taking care of Jake, Joshua lit a cigar and was holding up a porch post when the trail boss signaled him to follow. The man had arranged to use the hotel’s meeting room in order to pay his trail hands and ask a few men to stay around until the herd was sold. Faraday split up his money in pockets in his shirt, vest and pants. Thieves and pickpockets had taught him young not to keep his money all in one place. As one of the few literate hands on the drive, the trail boss asked him to help them take a head count and check over the horses they had left in the remuda. With an extra five dollars in his pocket and his hotel paid, Joshua went to saddle Jake and head for the stock pens.

The head count only took three days, but by the time he had doctored wounds and taken all the horses to the blacksmith to have their shoes reset, a week had passed. Most of the cowboys that had been on the drive had returned to ranch. The trail boss had asked six of the best hands with a gun to stay behind to escort the chuck wagon and remuda back to the ranch. Without the cattle, the trip would be a lot faster, and Faraday could understand wanting extra gun hands to escort the money from the sale of the cattle back to King Ranch. With no other plans, Joshua decided the extra money would come in handy when he did finally leave Texas.

~ • ~ • ~

Sitting on the hotel balcony with a cup of coffee and a cheroot, Joshua studied his map. While he was a sociable man, since the war he wasn’t much for spending time in large groups of people for long periods of time. He didn’t mind riding guard or cattle drives since he only had to interact with the other cowboys at breakfast and supper, but if he was going to be traveling with people, he wanted someone with him he could trust when he closed his eyes at night. The creak of the stairs warned the gambler someone was climbing the stairs. Resting his hand on his belt gun, he hid his action behind his map.

“Afternoon, Faraday.”

“Simmons.” He’d only seen the trail boss yesterday when he collected the last of his pay from Mr. King. He moved his hand away from his gun by reaching for his coffee.

“Planning your journey?”

“Yeah.”

“Want to get paid?”

“Where you going?”

“Mr. King sold three hundred head of cattle to a ranch north of Raton over the Colorado border, and I’m putting together a crew for a drive. Take about two months.”

“That’ll put us in Colorado in the fall of the year. Not a good time to be caught in the mountains.”

“I image most will return to the ranch long before winter sets in.”

“I imagine most will.” Joshua smirked at the man. The men smoked their cigars in companionable silence for several minutes. “I believe I’ll accompany you on your drive, Mr. Simmons.”

“We’ll be glad to have you along. Be back at the ranch Sunday morning.”

Leaning back in his chair. Joshua tipped his hat to the trail boss and the man headed for the stairs. Watching Simmons head out of town toward the ranch, Joshua headed to the livery where he took Jake to the blacksmith for new shoes before stopping by the General Store to lay in supplies.

He wasn’t looking forward to eating nine hundred miles worth of dust, but it got him to Colorado traveling with a group of men he trusted as long as they were on the job. Once the job was done, he’d head north to Colorado Springs … Maybe Denver for the winter. There was no way he was crossing the Rocky Mountains this late in the year.

~ • ~ • ~

The Double T ranch was a new venture situated in a picturesque mountain valley west of Trinidad, Colorado. The river running through the ranch guaranteed plenty of water for the operation using the hardy King Ranch shorthorns as a foundation for their herd.

Joshua leaned on his saddle horn as he kept on eye on the herd while he watched Simmons talking with the ranch’s foreman. The trip up the Goodnight Loving Trail had been fairly quiet being near the end of the season. The groups they met were driving the herds south to Ft. Worth where the cattle would be housed until they were loaded on rail cars or sent to slaughter.

Simmons’ second-in-command trotted over to show the drovers where they would be putting the cattle until the ranch hands could get them branded and sorted. When the gate closed behind the last cow, they headed over to the chuckwagon hoping Cookie was serving something that didn’t include beans with a side dish of beans.

The remuda had been settled, bedrolls had been spread out, and everyone was lining up for rabbit stew and biscuits before Simmons made it back to camp. Once everyone was settled with their plates and coffee, the trail boss cleared his throat.

“Y’all did Mr. King proud getting the herd here only losing five head. I’ll be passing out pay in the morning, but I wanted to give you something to think on tonight … Mr. Harrington wanted me to pass on a job offer to anyone interested. Winter will be hard and there’ll be a lot of work to get ready, but I told the man I’d pass on the offer. Let me know in the morning.” Having said his piece, Simmons settled down with his own supper.

Four other hands beside Faraday decided to stay on the Double T. Darius Harrington had been grateful since many of the hands had left when the widow of the previous owner sold the ranch so she could take her children to her parents’ home. The man had gotten lucky when Dixon, the foreman decided to stay. The new hands put their horses in the corral and their gear in the bunkhouse.

First order of the day was getting the Double T brand on the new cattle and getting them to pasture with the rest of the cows. Joshua was getting ready to head out with the rest of the cowboys when Dixon pulled him to the side.

“Simmons said you were a fair to middling horse breaker.”

“Been doing it since I was fourteen.”

“Ring’s next to the field where you put the cattle. Harrington bought twenty head of mustangs that are halter broke. Your job is to make into cow ponies. The gear for breaking horses is in the back of the tack room.”

“Horse breaking’ll cost you ten dollars more a month.” Faraday drawled.

“Mr. Harrington’s already agreed.”

With a nod, Joshua headed for the barn.

~ • ~ • ~

By the end of the fall roundup, Joshua had five of the twenty mustangs ready to turn over to the cowboys. The hay mows were stuffed with high meadow grasses and a lot of the work around the ranch had to do with surviving winter. Faraday had made a trip into Trinidad to purchase several new pairs of long johns, flannel shirts, heavy pants and a great coat. Spending the past couple years in south Texas meant he hadn’t needed the heavy clothes he worn while he still lived in Kansas.

Thinking about Kansas often got him to thinking about writing to his mother, but he’d swore to himself when he left that he wouldn’t interfere with her new life with her new husband and kids. Since it’d been a couple years since he’d left, they probably thought he was dead, so no reason to get all sentimental over it. Shoving thoughts of Kansas out his mind, he picked up his rope and headed for the mustang field. He still had fifteen horses to train.

When he got tired of card tricks to help keep his fingers nimble, Faraday took to braiding leather during long winter evenings when he was bored with poker and reading. One of the hands working on the King Ranch had taught him when they were riding guard on the herds. He had graduated from riatas and quirts to bridles and hackamores. A couple of the hands had like Jake’s bridle so much they offered Joshua a half month’s wage for one of their own.

Watching the drifts around the ranch buildings beginning to melt caused a restlessness begin growing inside Joshua. Patches of new grass and alpine flowers began to appear in puddles of snow water prompting the cows of the Double T to begin dropping their calves. Though the breeze blowing over the remaining snow was chill, the sun warmed the cowboys enough to shed their heavy coats as they went about checking fences, cattle and horses.

Joshua was down to his shirt sleeves as he swung into the saddle of the last mustang of the twenty Mr. Harrington wanted trained. He kneed the bay gelding toward the gate where he encouraged him to stand quietly while he opened the gate. Using a light touch of his spurs, the horse maneuvered around allowing Faraday to close the gate behind them. Walking over to the winter pasture for the cattle, they once again completed opening and closing the gate. Riding around the edges of the herd, Joshua checked the cows for signs of injury and disease while paying careful attention his mount.

The bay was doing well, so he pulled the gelding to a stop while he watched the cows … Most heavy with calf, but a few babies only a couple days old laying in the sun while their mothers searched out the shoots of new grass. Seeing dark red staining the white hair on one of the heifers they’d brought up from Texas, Joshua set his horse in motion to cut her from the herd and take her back to the corral they used to doctor animals. Impressed with how well the mustang worked the young cow, it didn’t take long before they were closing the gate behind the wounded heifer. Faraday grinned when he turned the gelding to go back to the herd only to find the herd had followed them back to the ranch.

Stepping out of the dining hall used by the ranch hands after lunch, Joshua shivered as he noticed the overcast sky and dropping temperature. Grabbing his great coat from where it was tied on the back of his saddle, he tightened the girth on his saddle, and was preparing to swing up in the saddle when Dixon came out of the big house.

“Faraday!” Leading the bay over to the foreman, Joshua waited as the foreman gathered his thoughts. “Take Cruz and Williams, get the cows with calves to the hay barn. Huston, Smith, and O’Brien are bringing in the mares and foals.”

“Got it, Boss.”

He turned for the bunkhouse to retrieve the two cowboys. They were retrieving their cold weather gear while Joshua explained what the foreman wanted. By the time they were headed back to winter pasture, big flakes of snow were beginning to fall.

“Good thing the cows followed you back to the ranch this morning.” Cruz said in Spanish while grinning at Joshua. Faraday had learned quite a bit of the language while at the King Ranch and had asked Cruz for lessons during their Saturday night poker games instead of taking the Mexican cowboy’s money. Plus, Cruz’s wife, Salina, cooked for the ranch and Joshua had learned a long time ago to never anger the person making his food.

“We should probably open the gate to the field using hay shocks as a windbreak so there’s food and shelter for the rest of the herd. I don’t think Harrington can afford to lose a lot of cows to a spring storm.” Joshua went to open the gate for the herd while Cruz and Williams went for the calves and their mothers.

They brought the entire herd as far as the hay field before Cruz and Williams cut out the cows with calves and Joshua pushed the rest of the cows in with the hay shocks.

“Make sure to set them up with water. Maybe run a rope from the bunkhouse to the barn to keep from getting lost in the snow.” Faraday shouted over the wind. Cruz gave him a wave to indicate he’d heard.

By then visibility was rapidly becoming a concern as he closed the gate behind the herd bull and last of the cows. The herd’s lead cow had already taken the herd to stand up against the line of hay shocks as they began to eat into the mounds of cured grass. Thankfully the herd wasn’t large enough that the cattle would suffocate or trample each other trying to get to the hay but would be huddled close enough behind the wind break of the shocks to weather the storm.

Tying the gelding to the fence, Faraday slogged through the accumulated snow to open the trace from the creek to the water tank. He would have to wait until the tank filled before leaving so the field wouldn’t become a quagmire of mud under the cows’ hooves.

The snow was ankle deep when Joshua climbed back in the saddle and headed the bay toward the ranch. He hoped the herd with all the steers and young bulls running in the canyon pasture would be able to hold out until they could get to them after the storm.

Man and horse were wet and shivering by the time Joshua led the bay through the barn door. Stripping his saddle off the gelding, he grabbed a couple burlap bags to rub down the green broke horse that had performed like a veteran cow pony. Finally dry and watered, he ran the bay into one of the extra stalls and gave him a hearty portion of oats and a manger full of hay before he headed for the bunk house.

Stripping down to his long handles, a cup of hot coffee shoved in his hands, Joshua was soon sitting beside the wood stove feeling the blood returning to his toes and fingers. It wasn’t long before he moved to sit on his own bunk as Huston, Smith and O’Brien stomped through the door shedding snow like another coat.

“We saw you putting the herd in the hay field, so we turned the horses in the other one.” O’Brien grinned at the younger man.

“Better a few hay shocks tore up than losing cows caused they starved. I’m just worried what we’ll find when we get to the steers and bulls.” Faraday finished his coffee and set his cup to the side. All the hands nodded knowing if the snow got deep enough the cattle would be trapped in a corral of snow that would make them easy prey for predators and starvation.

The next three days were a siege laid on the ranch by Mother Nature. Every day was a battle to chop ice so animals could get water and dig firewood out of the snow drifts. Ropes were strung from the bunkhouse to the big house, barns, and corrals so no one got disoriented in the blowing snow while outside attending the animals.

On the fifth day the men noticed the wind no long howled around the bunkhouse. Blankets were pulled down from where they were nailed over the windows to keep wind and snow from blowing through cracks and crevices. The sun reflecting off the snow nearly blinded them, but that was nearly outdone by the smiles inside the bunkhouse.

Cowboys and the family alike were wielding shovels to get better paths cleared. Spring was definitely back, so by the end of the day the waist deep snow settled to the top of Joshua’s thighs. By noon the next day, they saddled their horses to begin breaking trails to get the cattle moving back out into the fields.

It took another three days of thawing before they could ride out to check on the cattle in the canyon pastures. One group of steers were anxious to get away from the creek flooding from snow melt while another raced to the water after being trapped away from any type of water.

By the time all the herds had been checked, the Double T had lost fifteen head of cattle and four horses. With no way to bury the animals, the hands drug the carcasses away from the herds where predators and scavengers could feed on the dead and ignore the living.

As the snow continued to melt and damage from the spring blizzard was cleared away or repaired, the more certain Joshua was that it was time for him move on. When Dixon was handing out the month’s pay, Faraday informed him he’d be moving on the next morning.

“You ever back in the area, you’re always welcome, Faraday.”

“Thanks, Dixon.”

Joshua began gathering his gear in preparation for his next adventure.

**_~ Spring 1870 ~_ **

Nursing bruised ribs and face, Joshua eased himself out of the tub of barely warm water. Soaking in the hot water had gone a long way to loosening up his abused body. His companions at the card table the night before had taken exception to his winning streak and had lain in wait to reclaim their money as he walked back to his boarding house. To add insult to injury, they’d also taken his guns.

His first stop after leaving the boarding house was the closest gunsmith. The widow who owned the boarding house had taken pity on the beat-up cowboy and recommended the shop just down the street. The middle aged blonde that stepped out of the back of the shop was a surprise, but she knew her guns. Faraday had spent most of the money he’d made from his time at the Double T on three guns and a new gun belt, so he’d have to soon look for work to keep from dipping into his savings that were hidden in his greatcoat.

Walking through the small town of Wheatridge, Joshua kept an eye out for the men who’d attacked him, but he didn’t believe they would have stayed in the small town west of Denver afterward. After a stop at the general store to replace the clothes that’d been damaged in the attack, he decided to treat himself to lunch at the hotel restaurant.

Gathering his purchases after he finished his coffee Faraday stopped a few steps outside the hotel to strike a match on the porch railing. Looking around while he lit his cheroot, he saw a new notice on the town’s bulletin board. Thankful his mother had sent him to school, Joshua read about the local freight company looking for guns to guard freight wagons heading to Ogden, Utah. He wondered why they weren’t using the train, but who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth. Seeing the freight office was just a few buildings from where he was standing, the Irishman decided to see what they were offering.

An hour later, grinning around a new cigar, Joshua headed back to the boarding house having three days to gather his supplies and have Jake’s shoes checked in preparation to leave with the freight wagons.

~ • ~ • ~

Reaching Fort Duchesne in Utah, Joshua was fighting the temptation to shoot the freight company’s man, Rodgers, that was overseeing the trip. Instead of learning the names of the men protecting his wagons, he came up with his own names that always had something to do with the man’s name or looks. Faraday’s was one of the tamer names … He was called the red-headed Mick until they crossed the border from Colorado to Utah. A gang of outlaws had attacked the freight wagons, killing the rear guard before he could alert the drovers and outriders.

The gang had targeted the drivers, killing one and wounding one before Joshua had taken out their sharpshooter. He’d knocked Rodgers off his horse when the man froze in the middle of the gun battle. Once the fight ended, men and mules were checked over before they turned their attention to the dead outlaws. Since their horses had run off with the remnants of the gang, they stripped the bodies of anything useful and left them where they fell. Not having pilfered bodies during the war, Faraday wasn’t about to start now, so he left the others to it while he continued to check over the mules. They’d gotten lucky only losing one driver, and no mules. Since no one else had experience handling an eight mule team, he went from guard to drover along with gratitude from Rodgers and being called by his name.

Now that they made it to the fort, they’d be taking two days at a company waystation to make repairs to the wagons and change out the teams before continuing to Ogden. They were also able to replace the dead and injured drivers. Joshua took time to take a very quick bath in the icy creek outside the fort, but it was well worth enduring the snow melt water in the creek to remove the layers sweat and dirt that accumulated from being the fourth wagon in a line of ten as he wrestled the eight mule team through swollen streams and mountain passes. His back and shoulders were thankful he be back to riding Jake for the last ten days and two mountain passes.

The last leg of the trip was thankfully quiet. The mountain passes were clear of snow, the streams were staying in their banks, and the new grass was high enough to keep the horses and mules in good shape. Faraday wanted to kiss the ground when they pulled the wagons in the company warehouses, and Rodgers handed out their pay. He was excited to be back in civilization right up until Rodgers handed them their pay and warned them about the lawless nature of the railroad town.

“There were a lot of workers that stayed here after they finished the railroad. They got Micks, Breeds, Chinks, and every other low bred sort that could swing a hammer living here ‘cause of the railroad. I don’t recommend being on the streets alone after dark.”

Faraday solved that problem by finding a hotel on Two Bit Street with a saloon, livery, and a restaurant. He got Jake settled in the livery after buying a ticket for both of them on the Union Pacific Railroad to Reno. He thought about going on through to Sacramento but thought he might find work on one of the ranches along the infamous Donner Pass. The private compartment he splurged on would help keep his gear safe on the two to three day trip. His travel arrangements taken care of, he got a hot bath, hot meal, and went looking for a hot game of cards.

~ • ~ • ~ 

Fifteen dollars richer, Joshua coaxed Jake up the ramp into the railroad car stabling several other horses. He placed his saddle on a nearby rack and waited with the gelding until the train was underway and the horse had settled after being startled by the train whistle. Taking his saddlebags and greatcoat off his saddle, he headed through the cars to find his compartment.

He was passing through the club car when he waylaid one of the porters to explain how to get to his compartment. Placing his saddlebags on the green button tucked seat, Faraday was surprised at the small water closet in the corner. He’d stayed a lot of places in his years on the road, but this was the first time he had a private privy. Settling in to enjoy the trip, he was startled by the conductor knocking on the door asking for his ticket followed by the porter delivering a pitcher of water and glasses.

“Dinner be served in fifteen minutes, Sir.” The porter bobbed his head before backing out of the compartment.

Never a vain man, Joshua nonetheless was taught manners by his mama, so he washed his hands and face, tried to tame his russet curls before locking his compartment and pocketing the key. After lunch, he checked on Jake before enjoying a cigar in the club car.

Joshua spent the evening in the club card for a drink and a few hands of cards before retiring back to his compartment where he found the porter had accessed his room to light the lamp and make up his bed. He pulled out a book out of his saddlebags that he’d picked up in Ogden. Not one for simply sitting unless he was playing cards, he figured he’d need something to entertain himself.

As the sharp edged hills became dark shadows against the evening sky, Joshua settled down into the most comfortable bed he’d slept in in ten years. Knowing there was a lock on the door added to his relaxation as Utah was left behind and Nevada began to disappear under the wheels of the train. He woke several times during the night long enough to realize the train was making stops for passengers and to take on water and coal before drifting back into a deep sleep.

Enjoying the bit of luxury he’d allowed himself by traveling on the train. He finished his cigar and coffee watching spring in the Nevada desert passing by the windows. Relaxed from a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast, he walked through to the car carrying the horses to check on Jake to make sure the gelding was still being a good traveler.

Shock caused him to stop in his tracks as he entered the car and saw Jake’s stall. His saddle and bridle still hung on the saddle stand, but no horse in the stall. It was an angry gambler that went in search of the groom.

“Where’s my horse?” He demanded.

“I don’t know what you mean, Sir.” The groom straightened from his job.

“The blaze faced chestnut that was in that stall.” He pointed to the empty stall.

“Fella led him off the train at the Elko stop.”

“How’d he do that without paperwork?” Joshua shook the horse’s paperwork under his nose.

“Could be I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until they slammed the door shut after everybody was off the train.” The groom was looking at his feet as he made his confession.

“So who’s going to pay me for my horse you let get stolen?” He demanded.

“You’ll need to speak with the conductor. He’ll have to wire the home office.”

Snatching up his saddle and bridle, Joshua yanked open the door. “You better be finding him. I’ll be in Compartment 7.” He snarled as he headed back through the train.

It wasn’t long before an apologetic conductor was knocking on the door of his compartment.

“I don’t care about apologies, I only care about who’s paying me for a highly trained saddle horse.” Joshua ground out.

“Sir?”

“Jake wasn’t just some ladies’ Sunday afternoon hobby horse. He’s a trained ranch horse worth one hundred and fifty dollars.”

“I’ll send a telegram to the home office when we stop at Battle Mountain. I should have an answer for you by the time we get to Reno.”

“It better be the right answer since I’ll need to buy a new horse when I get off at Reno. If the answer is anything less than, ‘Give the man one hundred and fifty dollars for his horse we let get stolen from under the groom’s nose,’ than all y’all better be cleaning out your pockets until I get my money.” In his aggravation, Faraday drummed his fingers on Maria, his belt gun.

“Of course, Sir. Soon as the train stops, I’ll be sending the wire.” The conductor ducked his head as he scampered out the door.

Spending most of the day brooding over whiskey in the club car, Joshua thought about all the things Jake had gotten him through in the past four years. He hoped whoever took the gelding treated him well. He got to feeling better after lunch when he won fifty dollars off two fat bankers and a mine owner.

The longest stop of the day was Reno. Joshua was glad they were only an hour from Reno, Nevada’s twin town of Reno, California. The train ride had lost its shine and he was ready to get out in the air that didn’t smell like coal smoke and hot brakes.

Tired of inane conversation and the smell of unwashed bodies. Joshua went back to his compartment. He was making sure everything was back in his saddlebags when the conductor tapped on the door.

“I did the best I could, Sir. I explained that you were one of our first class customers, but the company would only allow fifty dollars for your horse and the price of your ticket.”

The conductor met his gaze but there was a slight tremble to his hand. “Sorry about losing my temper earlier. Jake and I had been together for a while.” Joshua rubbed his hand over his beard. “I guess if that’s all they’ll pay …” He held his hand out to accept the money.

“Thank you for understanding, Sir.” The conductor began to slide the door open.

“Can I see it?” Faraday asked.

“See what, Sir?” Sweat began to collect along the conductor’s hairline.

“The telegram from your company. I ain’t never seen a telegram from a big outfit like a railroad.” His smile was all teeth.

“Ah certainly, Sir.” He shoved the telegram at Joshua and tried to move for the door.

“Good God, man. We’re on a train. Where do you think you’re going to run to?” Faraday admonished as he grabbed the man by the collar. He grabbed a wad of money from his vest pocket. “What do you know. It looks like the railroad’s paying me a hundred and fifty dollars after all.” He shoved the conductor out the door.

“Be a long time before I ride one of these damn things again.” Faraday grumbled.

By the time the train pulled into the Reno station, Joshua’s temper had cooled as he hauled his saddle with him to the hotel. The desk clerk frowned at the saddle, but Faraday’s glare had him handing over a room key with no comment.

~ • ~ • ~

After breakfast, Joshua got directions from the desk clerk to the livery. He had just gotten through the howdy do’s with the livery owner when commotion from behind the barn drew their attention. Rushing through the barn to the corrals, the two men were horrified at what they found. A young man with a horse snubbed down against a post and lashing the sweating, panicked animal with the knotted end of his lasso.

“CALEB!” The owner yelled at the youngster to get his attention. Once Caleb stopped the beating to look the men, he face turned pale. “I done told you to stay away from that stud! Now, you let him loose before I take that rope to your backside. You ever touch another horse like that again and I’ll ship your ass back east to your worthless mother.”

“But, Pa …” He started to whine until he saw Faraday moving in his direction with murder in his eyes.

“Get your ass out of this corral. You ought never be allowed near another horse the rest your days.” He snarled as he grabbed the young man by the arm and shoved him toward the gate. He took the time to calm his temper before he moved closer to the heaving horse. “What’s his name?”

“He ain’t got one. Fella was delivering him to a ranch over in Utah … Lost all his money in a card game and gave me the stud to pay his livery bill.”

“I happen to be looking for a good horse.” He began to move slow and steady toward the stallion. “I’ll make you a deal. I get him under saddle, you give me the horse.”

“But he’s got to have some kind of fancy blood if he was going to stud.” The livery man whined almost as bad as his son.

“Ah, but you can’t prove it. You didn’t get his papers.” He started to croon in a mixture of Spanish and Gaelic to soothe the bay. “There’s also the fact you let your boy ruin a good horse. I ought to take him just to keep him from being abused.” Though he never raised his voice as he began running his hand gently over the stallion to make sure he hadn’t injured himself struggling to get away from the pain, the livery owner could hear the steel in Faraday’s voice. “A man gets a certain reputation for being heavy handed with an animal, people stop using his services.”

“Now see here … Ain’t no need to be spreading rumors.” He was nearly pleading. “You give me fifty dollars and I won’t charge you for board while you’re in town.”

“I don’t see your kid around this horse, even to clean his stall.”

“But, Pa …” The boy started until his father boxed his ear.

“Shut it. You’re costing me a lot of money here.” He watched as Faraday loosened the knot holding the horse’s head close to the post.

Expecting the animal to bolt, father and son were surprised when he began rubbing his face on the gambler’s leg where the halter had dug into his face. Pulling a slice of dried apple from his vest pocket distracted the bay from his rubbing.

“Where’s his stall?” He led the stallion out the corral’s gate.

“We’ll put in over by the tack room along-side my horse. That way he won’t be bothered by people coming and going.”

As Joshua walked past Caleb leading his new horse, the stud’s head snaked around to take a bite of the youngster’s back side.

“OW!!!”

Joshua and the horse continued on to the stall, the man chuckling as the horse nuzzled his pocket looking for another piece of apple. “You’re a wild one.” He made sure the horse had fresh water and hay as removed his halter and scratched the marks the halter had left on the well-formed head that indicated the horse’s good breeding. “I think I’ll call you Wild Jack.” He hung the halter and lead line on the hook after closing the door to the box stall. He stopped in front of the livery owner. “I’ll take him. I’m going to the hotel and get my saddle. When I get back, I expect a bill of sale for my horse for which I’ll give you fifty dollars.”

“Absolutely, Mr. …”

“Faraday … Joshua Faraday. Since we going to be friends until I leave town, what do I call you?” Joshua held out his hand.

“Moses. Moses Cramer and my son, Caleb.” Moses shook Faraday’s hand.

“Yeah, we got a deal, but I don’t reckon I’ll be needing to see much of Caleb.” He glared at Moses.

“No, sir. The boy can be tending other chores while you’re around.”

With a nod of acknowledgement, Joshua headed out the door to retrieve his saddle from the hotel.

~ • ~ • ~

Joshua spent the next several days, working on the ground with Jack, getting the stallion used to him, the saddle, blanket, and swinging his lariat around the horse. Jack was rock steady, never shying away or kicking up a fuss. The only time he raised a ruckus was when someone he didn’t like came around. So far that included Caleb, and Moses’ ranch hand, George, that delivered hay and grain to the livery.

The day he stepped into the saddle, Jack reached around and took the toe of Joshua’s boot between his teeth and shook his head. Faraday gave his ear a tug. “Behave, yourself, mule.” He grumbled quietly. Jack snorted on his boot and took off easy as a kid’s pony when Joshua kneed him forward. Moses opened the gate and watched the pair ride through the barn and out onto the street.

“That’s how you train a horse, son.” He growled as he gave the boy a slap on the back of the head as he walked past.

After riding out of town, Joshua put Jack through his paces. When they stopped for a breather, he was convinced Wild Jack was what they called a Quarter Horse. He figured if all else failed, he could stud the bay out to ranchers looking to branch out their bloodlines. Standing close, with a firm grip on the reins, Faraday pulled Maria and fired. Other than blowing hard out his nostrils and twitching his ears, the stallion stood solid. He repeated the same thing with his rifle with the same results. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Faraday returned to town making plans for leaving Reno. It wouldn’t do for Moses to get the idea of knocking him in the head and stealing Wild Jack now that Joshua got him trained.

The sun was just peeking over the hills guarding the Truckee River valley as Joshua tied Wild Jack to the hitching rail in front of the café. His saddlebags were bulging with supplies, including a bottle of top shelf whiskey. It was only a day’s ride to Virginia City, but he had no intentions of getting caught without supplies. He slipped Jack a bit of biscuit before striking a match on the wooden rail to light a cheroot before grabbing the saddle horn and hoisting himself into the saddle. The pair ambled down the street until they were out of town where Faraday urged the bay into a jog with a light touch of his spurs.

When the stallion worked up a light sweat, Joshua eased him back to a walk. He wanted to build his endurance after standing around the corral for several months. Once Jack was cooled down, they found a dry wash where snow water from the mountains still ran. Man and horse enjoyed a refreshing drink. After man and horse took a piss, Joshua tightened the girth and got back on the road.

“You know, I think I stand up pretty good comparatively speaking.” Jack gave a little crow hop to show his opinion of Faraday’s boast. “Yeah … Yeah. Let’s get to Virginia City. I can feel all those miners’ money moving from their pokes to my pockets.” He urged Jack back into his ground eating jog.

~ • ~ • ~

The third day he was in Virginia City, he slipped his knife between the ribs of a man trying to roll him as he walked back to his hotel. His fifth day, the whore who’d hung over his shoulder at the poker table tried to take more than her fee, and his seventh day he decided it was time to move on to Carson City. Some young dumb ass trying to build a reputation decided Faraday was a good target of all the people on the noon time streets of Virginia City.

“Son, you don’t want to do this.” Joshua tried to reason with the young man. “Let’s step over here and I’ll show you card trick instead.”

He’d already determined the kid was right-handed and hadn’t taken the time to learn to shoot proper with both hands though he wore a two gun rig.

‘I don’t want to see a card trick I want the money you took off my brother last night.”

“Man can’t afford to lose shouldn’t be playing cards.” Joshua tried to soothe. “Not my job to protect people from their own stupidity.”

A flush of anger colored the young man’s face as he went for his gun. Quick as a blink, Joshua pulled Ethel and knocked the gun out of the youngster’s hand.

“You want to live to get older, you’ll walk away.” Joshua offered. “You go for that other gun and I’ll leave you dead in the dirt.”

“Eddie!” A man that looked a few years older than the young man holding his hand came running out of the bank. “You take Mr. Faraday’s advice and walk away. He could have killed you instead of putting a dent in your pistol.”

“But Ben …”

“No.” He picked up the gun and dumped it back in the holster. Grabbing Eddie by the collar he pulled him down the street toward the hotel. “You idiot, you want me to have to tell Mother you got a case of the stupid and got yourself shot?” He shook the kid like an errant pup as they walked.

Faraday tipped his hat to the crowd as he headed to the livery to saddle Jack before heading to his boarding house to collect his gear. Maybe he’d make a stop at Silver City for a day or two before heading to Carson City.

A stop at the bath house and laundry and Joshua was ready to find a boarding house. He’d found over the years they were cheaper than hotels and there was seldom a woman he couldn’t charm whether they were old enough to be his mother, or a younger woman made a widow by a living in a place that killed men before their time. He preferred the older women since they weren’t looking to make him the next man to put a ring on their finger. Washing the trail dirt and sweat off before knocking on their doors was a bonus … Jack would stand at the hitching post doing a lot of sighing and blowing with his ears flopping like he was on his last legs, usually got him sweet deal wherever he stopped.

~ • ~ • ~

September found him in Angels Camp having spent the summer traveling from gold camp to gold camp relieving miners of their hard earned profits. Faraday loved the shiny gold mental but had no desire to try and coax it from ground. He tried to be careful with his money but there were time when he got too far into a bottle of whiskey and would wake hungover with empty pockets and bruises.

Not one to flaunt the money he kept carefully hidden from the public eye, he’d get the local seamstress to fix the tears in his clothes or quietly replace them at the local mercantile. Unlike some gamblers who dressed to stand out, Faraday like being underestimated or mistaken for an itinerant cowboy. Until his face became familiar, people wouldn’t be on guard playing against him like the dandified professionals.

Now was time to decide where he was spending the winter. As much as he enjoyed riding through the Sierra Nevada mountains during the summer, there was no way he was getting snowed in until spring. Sacramento was a little too civilized for his taste, but Lodi or Stockton might still be wild enough. If not, one of the ranches in the area would be a good place to sit out the winter rainy season.

Riding into the town of Jenny Lind, Faraday noticed a crowd of men gathered on the edge of town. Always curious and interested in turning a situation to his advantage and tied Jack at the livery and wandered over to the group. Leaning against the gate stood Goodnight Robicheaux smoking a cigarette while the Korean assassin, Billy Rocks stood in the center of the corral competing with knife and gun against some mouthy fella whose face was getting redder with every competition. Nearly knocking Robicheaux over, the man’s friend charged through the gate and pulled his friend out of the corral haranguing him for trying to get himself killed. Goodnight passed his hat to collect their bets. Faraday had stepped back from the fence and waited until the pair concluded their business with the crowd. Billy walked over to Joshua while Goodnight continued to work the crowd.

“Good to see you two still in one piece.” Faraday stuck out his hand.

“It’s been questionable a time or two. We try not to overdo it in any one area, but California is a big state.” Billy gave him a sly smile.

“Always leave them wanting more.” Joshua chuckled. “Been in town long?”

“Few days. Getting ready to move on.”

“Yeah. I’m just passing through trying to decide where to winter. Didn’t want to get caught by winter.”

“We need to find a little bigger town. We’re getting low on tobacco.” Billy kept his voice low. The tobacco that Billy laced with opium kept the ghosts of the Angel of Death away from the former sniper’s dreams, but Billy was careful to keep the dose small enough to not be a problem should their supply run out for a few days.

“Y’all run into Chisholm in your travels? He crosses my mind every now and again.”

“I admit that I have not seen Chisholm since the war. I often wonder about the man who lent a helping hand to a man in dire need. Your travels do not seem to have left you worse for wear.” Robicheaux drawled in his smooth Louisiana accent.

“I’ve survived mostly unscathed. You’d be surprised how many people get upset over a simple card game.” Faraday winked as he shook hands with the older man. “I was telling Billy I just rode in town for the night.”

“We’re at the hotel. Join us for dinner at six?”

“Will do. That’ll give me time to see to Jack and get a room.”

‘’Til then, mon ami. Billy, I believe we could use a drink after a good day’s work.”

He slapped Rocks on the back as he gave Joshua a nod as they reached the livery. Faraday went in search of the stable man to get Jack settled while Rocks and Robicheaux headed toward the saloon. He thought to never see the two men after they left the King Ranch … It would be nice to catch up with the adventures of the men he counted among his few friends.

~ • ~ • ~

Tears streamed down his face as Faraday laughed at Goodnight’s recounting Billy’s bout with a high born Mexican that owned a hacienda just over the border from Douglas, Arizona. He thought to win his bout by default when he suggested the use of swords. When Rocks pulled his sword out of his rifle scabbard and performed several passes until the man had pulled the money pouch off his belt and thrown it at Robicheaux on the way to scrambling on his horse and heading back across the border to his hacienda.

At the end of the story, Billy retrieved his hat, touched Goodnight on the shoulder gave Joshua a look that meant the gambler was to watch over the older man. With a nod, he reached for the whiskey bottle and refilled their glasses and began regaling the former sniper with tales of Wild Jack’s antics with people and animals he didn’t like.

“I was in Carson City back in the spring. I tied Jack in front of the saloon while I cleared the dust out my throat. Seems the man the town paid to tend the watch fires had a tendency to take things that weren’t his. He’d eventually give them back when he found the next shiny thing that caught his eye, so folks just let it go. Seems he took a shine to Wild Jack. He walked up and untied Jack from the hitching rail and tried to lead him away like Jack belonged to him. A cowboy sitting on the porch in front of the general store told me what happened later.” Faraday took a drink of whiskey. He hadn’t talked so much in weeks. “Now, ‘ol Jack’s a mite particular about who touches him, so the ornery beast planted his feet and refused to move. When the fella tried to bribe him with a piece of penny candy, Jack ate the candy but still refused to move. Losing his temper, he thought hitting Jack across the rump with the end of the reins would get him to move ... Jack don’t cotton to being hit, so he clamps down on his arm so hard it cracked the bone. The man’s bent over howling in pain, not paying any attention to anything other than his arm. Jack looks around and plants a hind foot on the fella’s ass causing him to land in the dirt at the feet of the sheriff. I’m enjoying my drink, getting the lay of the land in town when I hear horses carrying on and people hollering. I pull Ethel ‘cause I figure Jack’s in the middle of some dust up. I step out on the porch, and there’s Jack glaring at this fella laying in the dirt hollering about his arm. His reins are hanging so he’s only ground tied with two or three other horses stomping around all pie-eyed from the hollering. The sheriff waves me off, so after telling Jack what a good boy he was, I took him to the livery and got a nice box stall and extra measure of oats for him as the sheriff took the man off to the doctor’s office then to jail.”

Robicheaux is still chuckling when Billy slipped back into his chair with a faint smile. “Faraday, only you would have a horse that gets into more trouble than you.” He passed Billy the remains of the cigarette he’d been smoking.

Joshua knew many of the mine owners had taken advantage of the Chinese labor, the railroads had dumped into the area. Those same Chinese always seemed to have a ready supply of opium that they were more than happy to sell to anyone with enough gold or cash until they had neither but were addicted to the magic powder that made you forget your problems.

“I look forward to once again journeying together to warmer climes.” Goodnight’s gold tooth flashed in the lamp light.

“Yeah, I need to get out where there’s more than hard scrabble miners.” Joshua finished his glass of whiskey. “I might have to start playing with my own money.”

“That’s a bit harsh. These gentlemen work hard for the pittance they’re paid.”

“I fear we are all a product of our environment.” Joshua chuckled. “Jack is my best friend, and though I have left a string of broken hearts behind me, I have no desire to retrace my steps. How about you? You ever think of returning to your genteel roots.”

“So, you have given no thoughts to settling down and becoming a pillar of the community, and no … Nothing remains of my life before the war. My life is where I make it.”

“Maybe when I’m too decrepit to swing a leg over a horse I’ll find a town with a gambling hall and whiskey distillery.” Faraday toasted the two men with his refilled glass.

“Excellent choice my friend.” Goodnight threw back the last of the whiskey in his glass, stood, and stretched. “Since we want to get an early start, I believe I will retire, so I bid you a good evening.”

Billy quietly finished his drink before making a move to follow the Cajun. Faraday gave the assassin a saucy wink that earned him a curl of the lip that passed as a smile for the Korean. Not in the mood for poker, Joshua knocked the cherry off his cigar and when he was certain it was out, stuck the remainder in his pocket. Picking up the remains of their bottle of whiskey, he headed for his own room to refill his flask and enjoy the idea of waking up without his usual hangover.

~ • ~ • ~

For all that Joshua hated the war, he had enjoyed traveling with a group of men he trusted. He had that same feeling as he rode away from Angels Camp with Robicheaux and Rocks. Jack like the two men, so was minding his manners. The sneaky beast had tried to steal Billy’s poke of tobacco out of his pocket causing the man to give the stallion a rap on the nose. Jack had been so surprised at the retribution it became a game with the fighter. Jack would try to steal something from the fighter, including his hat. If the horse was successful, Billy would give him a piece of rock candy he always seemed to carry. Faraday grumbled about teaching his horse bad habits but didn’t put an end to the game. He considered anything that made Billy smile a good thing.

The hustle and bustle of Stockton was a shock to the system after the relative quiet of the small mining towns. Dust filled the air as cattle, wagons, horses and people moved through the streets. Their first stop was the saloon, which was the best place to obtain information on places to stay and eat. They found the bartender friendly and knowledgeable. A bare two hours later, they were back in the saloon minus their gear and several layers of trail dust. Faraday settled in at the poker table while Goodnight began to work the room for interest in a little competition for Billy’s talents.

The next month saw the men fattening their wallets for the slim times winter often brings. Stockton was big enough they could move to different areas of town to keep those that wished them ill for their winning ways from finding where they were staying. Though the nights were cold, the days were still warm as October turned into November. Goodnight and Billy decided to winter in San Francisco while Joshua found a ranch looking for someone to break horses to fulfill an Army contract coming due in February. When the men parted ways, they had no expectations of meeting again. The west was too big and sprawling for random meetings when death crossed their paths every day, but his life for a few months was brighter for the company of Goodnight and Billy.

His own situation was better than he expected. Good bed, good food, decent boss and they let him work his way without comment or censure. The ranch was close enough to Stockton if he wanted a Saturday night in town, there was always a number of the ranch’s cowboys to travel back and forth if he didn’t get an invite to spend the night with agreeable company. There was one or two of the old timers with the old school thinking of simply throwing a saddle on a horse and work him until he broke or broke down, but Faraday showed them a bit of the war veteran hardened by living a life traveling alone through the wilderness. After that they were more than happy to keep their opinions to themselves.

**_~ Summer 1879 ~_ **

Life continued on in much the same way for several years that were only noted by the changing seasons. There were challenges and bodies, and the building of a reputation that meant he was usually left alone but didn’t garner enough attention to set the law on his trail. There were days when he gave thought to finding that one town with a gambling hall and distillery and settle down. Wild Jack was reaching the prime of his life, and Joshua had enough money stashed where he could buy a small place with a few mares to keep Jack company and train other people’s horses.

He was pulled out his thoughts when one of the saloon girls began to rub his shoulders.

“Get right here … Get right here.” Faraday pointed to a knotted muscle in his shoulder. “I’m hoping it’ll change my luck. These cards are shit.” He grumbled around his unlit cigar. “Let’s try to keep it civil this round … Okay? I’m looking at you, Lucas.”

“Play the damn game, Faraday.” Lucas turned his head to stare at the gambler with his one good eye.

He gotten into Amador City last night having had too little to eat and too many pulls from his flask. He thought he remembered betting with a leprechaun about Jack’s board, but that could have been the whiskey. He’d checked on the stallion this morning to find him in a corral by himself with plenty of food and water. Of the leprechaun there was no sign, so he was sure it was a whiskey soaked memory.

Before he could make a snappy comeback, a shadow blocked the light coming through the swinging doors. Everyone’s attention turned to the door, and the saloon became quiet as a church. Taking his hat off the back of chair and settling on his head, Joshua’s gaze moved around the room making estimations where possible trouble might start. The figure that moved through the swinging doors was dressed in black from his hat to his boots except for the silver pistols with mother of pearl grips, and though it had been nearly twenty years since he’d seen the man, Joshua would never forget his childhood friend, Sam Chisholm. Resting his hand on Maria, he waited to see what kind of chaos the warrant officer was about to cause.

When the smoke cleared, the bartender was dead, and the saloon emptied as everyone ran for the sheriff.

“Dan dead?” The man in black nodded his head as he tucked his money back in his vest pocket. “Pity. I had just ordered a drink from that man.” Sam pushed his glass down the bar as an offering. “Money for blood is a peculiar business.”

He stared at Joshua for a few minutes as though trying to dredge up a memory of his face, but the gambler had apparently changed enough to be unrecognizable. He acted like he wanted to argue Joshua’s opinion of bounty hunters, but the crowd outside was getting louder, so the warrant officer raised his hands and stepped out the batwing doors.

Taking advantage of the empty room, Faraday picked up his money pausing briefly to consider scooping it all into his hat but didn’t want the hassle of Lucas and his cohorts chasing him down. Slipping out the back with half a bottle of Busthead, he headed to his hotel to collect his gear before fetching Jack to ride out of town while everyone was distracted by Chisholm.

Everything was going smooth until he walked past the barber shop where he was grabbed by the arm and jerked into what passed for any alley. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw two brothers he hadn’t seen since he was last in Virginia City. Earl and Dicky weren’t the sharpest tools in the shed, but right now they had his guns and Earl had a pistol in his side.

“Bet you thought you’d seen the last of us after you took that fifty dollars off us in Virginia City.” Earl growled. “Now get over there in that mine shaft. Then Dicky and me is going to get our money back and shoot you dead.”

“Get in the mine, Faraday.” Dicky snarled.

“I ain’t going in no mine shaft. There’s rats in there.” Faraday stopped and stubbornly planted his feet.

“I don’t believe a grown man is scared of rats. Get in that mine.” Earl demanded.

“How about instead I show you a magic trick?” Joshua reached for his cards.

“We ain’t got time for no magic tricks.”

“Oh come on, Earl. You know how I like magic.” Dicky whined.

By the time Faraday finished the card trick, Dicky had a bullet through the brain and Earl was the victim of the _incredible missing_ ear trick … The same ear that could no longer hear anything. Pushing the smaller man, Faraday snarled as he pulled his guns out of Dicky’s and pants after kicking away their guns.

“I didn’t want to kill him.” Faraday glared at Earl “He shouldn’t have touched my guns.” He stalked back to the street.

He finally made it to the livery and got Jack saddled. As he led bay out of the corral, there was a flurry of arms and legs that turned in a man … A man that with his hat on only came up to Faraday’s chest, ran around the corner hollering in Gaelic. It had been a lot of years since Joshua heard his mother’s tongue, but he got the gist of what the man was saying.

“I’d been drinking all that day, I thought you were a figment of my imagination. I would never have bet Jack if I thought it was the real thing.” Joshua tried to explain, but the leprechaun wasn’t having any of it. When he named a price, Faraday threw his hands in the air. “That’s more than the bet.” His rant was paused when he heard a soft voice behind him.

“I’ll buy him. How much?” Sam asked the stableman.

“For you twenty-five and two bits for the saddle … For him, full price.” He sneered at Joshua.

“Now wait a minute …”

“We’re looking for some men for a job to join me.”

“Is it difficult?”

“Impossible.”

“How many you got so far?”

“You and me.”

“I don’t …”

“I’ll give you back your horse.”

“The hell with it. I was leaving town anyway.” Faraday sneered at the leprechaun as he swung into the saddle. He held out his hand to Sam. “Joshua Faraday.”

“Faraday? From Westover, Kansas?” Sam’s eyes got wide as he shook Joshua’s hand.

A red-headed woman and a baby faced man watched the interaction between the two.

“The same. Been a long time. Looked for you after the war.”

“I wasn’t much for being found back then.”

“Figured that out when you dodged me at Ft. Sill.”

Sam’s smile was sheepish as they started down the street. Let me tell you about the job for Mrs. Cullen, Teddy Q, and the town of Rose Creek …”

Not one to hold a grudge, Faraday let Sam change the subject to what amounted to a suicide mission.

“Who is it we’re after on this impossible job?”

“Man named Bartholomew Bogue.”

“Bart Bogue, the robber baron? A real suicide mission.”

“You can ride on … No hard feelings.” Sam grinned at him. “Just leave my horse.”

Joshua glared. “Just thinking out loud.” If he had to die before his hair turned gray, it would be good to die remembered for being a hero than in a no name alley in a no name town. His mind settled his attention went back to their surroundings as Sam kicked Horse into a canter. Wouldn’t it be ironic if they all went to Hell together.

~ • ~ • ~

At noon, they stopped by a small stream for a quick lunch of bread, cheese, and dried meat. Joshua had finished tightening the girth on Jack’s saddle when Sam approached.

“I need you to go to a supply station twenty miles east of here called Volcano Springs. You should get there about this time tomorrow. Find a man goes by the name Goodnight Robicheaux and tell him I’m asking him to join us. We’ll meet at Junction City in three days. Take the big fork of the river. We’ll set up camp and wait there.”

“Will do.” He swung into the saddle, touched the brim of hat in a salute.

Before Jack could break into a jog, Sam called after him … “Take Teddy with you.”

Rolling his eyes he yelled back. “I ain’t waiting.”

The young man scrabbled to get on his horse, almost landing in the dirt when his saddle turned under his horse’s belly because he forgot to tighten his cinch. Sam watched the Widow Cullen push back her grief to hide a smile behind her hand at his antics. Young Teddy tried so hard to seem trail hardened but it was a suit that just didn’t fit.

“Now then …” He walked over to check the girth on his own horse. The black beast loved him but had a tendency to puff his sides while holding his breath, so you couldn’t tighten his cinch. After being dumped several times, he made sure to give the gleaming side a bump with his knee to make him blow out. “We have our own errand to run, so we better get to it.” He gave her a small smile of understanding as her face settled back in its usual look of deep sadness.

~ • ~ • ~

Breathing a sigh of relief when Volcano Springs came into sight, Faraday tried not to roll his eyes too hard at Teddy Q’s questions. He tried to remember the boy was young, though Joshua didn’t remember ever being so green. Turning out Teddy’s chatter, he figured the best place to start looking for Goodnight and Billy would be the saloon … If the town even had a saloon. He was seeing more tents than buildings.

It was then he heard a gunshot and noticed a crowd of men standing around one of the cattle pens. Heading that way, he tied Jack well away from the chance of a stray bullet. Teddy followed close on his heels as Joshua hung his arms over the top rail.

“Gentlemen, place your bets either on Billy Rock or Arcade.”

Faraday looked past the fighters to see Goodnight stretched along the top rail, his back against the gate post, enjoying the contents of his flask and a cigarette. It had been five or six years since he’d last seen the pair, and though the years had been kind to the Cajun and the Korean, he could see the ghosts of the past were riding the former sniper hard, if the shadows in his eyes were any indication.

“On my gun.” The two fighters fired. Billy holstered his gun as the other man started to celebrate. “Billy wins.” The man acting as the official announced.

“Come on Eddy, you’re a liar.” Arcade complained.

“Ah come on, Arcade.” Eddy tried to placate the man.

“Hey come on … We all saw me win, now.”

Faraday’s eyes narrowed as Arcade stirred up the crowd. He checked to see where Teddy was standing as he kept an eye on Billy’s reaction. Billy walked over to where Goody was still relaxed on the fence rail. Arcade shuffled from foot to foot and rolled his plug of tobacco around his jaw for several minutes before coming to a decision.

“Why don’t we do it for real?” Billy gave him a dismissive look. “Come on you scum sucking runt of a man.” The cowhands tried to talk Arcade down from his challenge, but the man was unmoved. “Double or nothing.”

“It’s your funeral, Arcade.” Eddy warned quietly.

“Double or nothing.” Arcade raised his voice as though everyone was hard of hearing.

Billy walked back to the center of the corral where he proceeded to drop his hat and gun belt in the dust. Arcade’s eyes were bright as he watched the unarmed man turn to the side and set his feet firmly in the dirt.

“Billy?” Eddy asked.

The Korean nodded his readiness while Goodnight continued to enjoy his cigarette. Knowing what Billy laced those cigarettes with, Faraday figured if Goody was any more relaxed, he ‘d roll off the top rail into the dirt. Arcade was practically dancing in anticipation of the kill. Teddy looked at Faraday like he expected him to do something to stop the cowboy from dying of his own stupidity.

“On my gun.” Eddy raised his pistol to shoot in the air.

Arcade’s shot went wide as the slim silver _binyeo_ _(hair stick)_ that had been holding Billy’s _sangtus_ _(top knot)_ sprouted from Arcade’s chest. Goodnight’s smirk told the crowd he never had a doubt about the outcome as he climbed off the fence while the spectators quietly cursed Arcade.

Flicking his cigarette butt in the direction of the dead cowboy, Robicheaux took off his hat to collect Billy’s winnings. Faraday tensed when one man showing either the size of his balls or his stupidity called Billy a cheat. Once he heard the name Robicheaux from the man trying to keep his friend from getting killed, he began to sing an apologetic tune and turned out his pockets. Joshua kept watch until Goody stopped in front of him and grinned.

The reunion continued outside the corral, as they shook hands and hugged. “I believe we could all use a drink.” He led his troupe toward the tent serving as a saloon.

“Sam Chisholm sent you. Are we talking about the same man?” Joshua grinned from the table where he watched Goodnight in the barber’s chair.

“Duly sworn warrant officer from the circuit court in Witchita, Kansas.” The men finished in unison with a chuckle as Goody laid back in the barber’s chair.

“How’d you meet?” Teddy asked Goodnight not sure if he should interrupt Billy as he demolished a plate of food.

“How did we meet, Billy?”

“Killing a man with a hair pin?” Joshua snickered around his cigar. He almost spit his drink when Billy looked up from his plate and winked. He threw the question to make the story seem real.

“That is funny.”

“I was serving a warrant for the Northern Pacific Railroad …” When Goody said he was serving a warrant for the Northern Pacific Railroad for Billy, it may have been on someone named Billy … Just not Billy Rocks. He must have successful since the Cajun was flush with cash when they met. “And I was in this little hole of bar in Texas …” Goodnight rattled on like he’d never been interrupted.

Faraday grinned at the fighter but kept quiet while Goodnight wove his magic. He figured Goody had hit a rough patch, run into Sam, who in turn offered him a few easy bounties.

“These Texas good ‘ol boys didn’t want to serve someone of Billy’s kind, so this petite son-of-a-bitch took on the whole bar room bare knuckled …”

The Cajun spun a yarn that waved at the truth as they passed it by but had been embellished to the point where if Joshua hadn’t been at their first meeting, he would have been as enthralled as Teddy.

The story finished with the two men becoming partners and friends. Teddy not willing to just enjoy the story had to throw out a little farm boy morality at the pair.

“You make a living off his alley fights?”

Before Goodnight could become indignant, Billy schooled the young man. “Equal shares. Between fights, Goody helps me navigate the white man’s prejudices.”

“I keep him employed and he keeps me on the level.” Goody smirked at Joshua as he took a drag off one of his opium laced cigarettes.

Teddy apparently thought he was in charge of this little operation with the idea that only Goodnight would be returning with them. He was soon disabused of that notion and before he let his hero worship of Sam Chisholm earn him a collection of bruises, Faraday took over the conversation.

“Day and half ride to Junction City … Two days to get there … I say we do a half day’s drinking before we ride out.” That earned him a glare from Teddy, but he was outvoted.

~ • ~ • ~

So excited about seeing Sam after so many years, Goodnight cantered out ahead of them as they rode into the camp set up under a grove of cottonwood trees. After Billy was introduced, Joshua pulled Sam to the side.

“Billy Rocks …” He gave a bit of a stagger, acting drunk instead of the warm buzz he had from the few pulls he’d taken off his flask. “He’s pretty good with them pig stickers.” He slapped Sam on the shoulder as he looked around the camp for any new faces. “Oh good. We got us a Mexican.” He leered at the handsome _pistolero_. “ _Ándale! Ándale! Muchacho._ ” Never one for openly flirting with good looking men, Joshua’s tone came off insulting rather than flirty.

Sam pulled Vasquez away from the laughing gambler shaking his head. “ _Loco cabrón_.” He muttered.

“He is, but under all that drink is a good man.” Sam soothed and hoped Faraday didn’t undo all his work to keep Vasquez from shooting him. Getting everyone mounted up, Sam headed for the next destination on his list.

The trading post looked like it seen it’s better days as the troupe tied their horses and settled in to wait. Faraday was chewing on the end of his cigarillo when two men walked up to the building hooping and hollering about being rich.

Once the Pigeon brothers settled down enough to be coherent, the story came out about how they hit the hunter/tracker, Jack Horne over the head with a boulder and he fell off a cliff. They were now on their way to collect a bounty from the Army. About that time a tomahawk appeared in the chest of one of the Pigeon brothers. A very large flurry of leather, canvas and homespun charged around the corner with blood in his eye and running down the back of his head.

The remaining Pigeon brother, not wanting to take his eyes off the terrible vision, tried to run backward and fire Horne’s rifle at the same time. The only thing he accomplished was to end his life sooner than if he’d turned around and ran. Tripping of his own feet, he became an easy target for Horne’s rage as the big man literally stomped the last Pigeon brother to death.

“The Pigeon brothers weren’t famous very long.” Robicheaux drawled causing Faraday, Billy and Vasquez to snicker while Emma Cullen and Teddy Q looked on horrified.

After Chisholm made his pitch to Horne, the tracker gave him a considering look before leading his horse away from the trading post. With a shrug, Sam ordered them back to their horses to continue on to Rose Creek. The sooner they got there the sooner they could begin to prepare for the return of Bartholomew Bogue.

**_~ Chapter ~_ **

Looking at the sad state of his whiskey bottle, sly green eyes flickered around the camp. Seeing Teddy Q taking sips from a bottle and grimacing, Joshua knew he’d found the perfect target. Knowing the farmer was trying to impress the Widow Cullen, Faraday offered to teach the younger man how to use the pistol, that was obviously his daddy’s. Using his deck of cards as a teaching tool, Joshua eventually ended up with the bottle of whiskey, and an embarrassed Teddy scrambling to his bedroll.

“It was never about the cards, Son … It’s all about the hands.” Hard green eyes glinted in the fire light.

The embarrassed pout from the youngster and judgmental glare from the widow earned them a wink and smirk from the gambler, who turned his attention to where Chisholm and Robicheaux were sitting with their heads together like a couple schoolboys.

“She’s about the same age as your sister when she died.” Goodnight watched his old friend closely.

“Yeah she is, but I ain’t seeing them in Emma Cullen.”

“Just making sure your fighting the battle in the now and not in the past.” He rubbed out his cigarette then turned the conversation to how he’d met Joshua Faraday.

In the grey light of pre-sunrise, Jack scrambled down into the campsite from his watch post on high.

“Incoming he hissed as his mad scramble brought everyone out of their bedrolls, pistols in hand. “Where’s there’s one, there’s more.”

Appearing out of the screen of white willows that bordered the creek, a grey horse decorated with paint appeared, his rider holding the carcass of a nice sized white-tailed buck across his withers. No one relaxed as Sam approached the young warrior. After a brief conversation in Comanche and the exchange of bites from the still warm liver of the deer, Chisholm announced the warrior, Red Harvest, was with them.

“Y’all get some breakfast so we can get moving. I’ve already had mine.” Sam growled as he headed back to his bedroll.

Pausing on the hill above the river valley that housed Rose Creek, Sam spread out the map Emma and Teddy had provided when they first approached him about their predicament. Wanting everyone on the same page, Sam laid out how many Blackstone Detective Agency men were in town … Where he wanted everyone and their jobs while he and Billy acted as the distraction for them to get in place. Emma and Teddy Q would stay outside of town until the Blackstones were dealt with. They remounted their horses and spent a few minutes watching as they only saw Blackstones moving through the town.

“What do you think?” Sam looked at this companions.

“Reminds me of this fella fell off the roof of a five story building.” Faraday quipped.

“How so?” Goodnight asked.

“He was heard to say as he passed by the windows on each floor … So far, so good.” Joshua straightened in his saddle with a sly grin. “He’s dead now.” It was with snickers and rolling of eyes they watched Sam and Billy head toward Rose Creek.

~ • ~ • ~

The sheriff and four Blackstones stepped out in front of Chisholm’s horse.

“Firearms ain’t allowed in town. You have to check them at the Sheriff’s office then pick them up when you leave town.” The pudgy man slurred like he just be jostled from sleep.

A wiry man nearly swallowed by the duster he wore stepped up beside the Sheriff and introduced himself as McCann, leader of the Blackstone Detectives. “We’ve got better than twenty men that keep the peace in this town.

“Always happy to cooperate with local law enforcement. Blackstones are known for union busting, back shooting cowards.” He sneered. Everyone backed up a step when Sam slowly pulled his pistol from its holster. Sam continued his patter, giving everyone time to get in position. “You might want to take a look around. I believe my men have position on yours.” Chisholm chirruped to Horse, sending the black gelding out of the way of the upcoming fireworks.

The Sheriff and Blackstones looked around thinking Chisholm was playing a bluff until they saw Robicheaux step out into the open. Faraday appeared on the porch of the hotel.

“They can be killed by the world’s greatest lover.” He said to a chorus of catcalls and chuckles.

Vasquez was across the street holding up a porch post, hand resting on his pistol. Horne came through the alley gnawing on a piece of dried venison swearing to say a little prayer for their adversaries.

The leader of the Blackstones called for their sniper to make a show of their tactical advantage. When nothing happened, Sam called out to Red Harvest, who shoved the body of the sniper off the roof. Everyone seemed frozen in place until the body hit ground like a macabre signal for the shooting to begin.

Faraday was the first to notice that the Goody was pale and panicked looking, aiming his rifle, but not actually taking a shot at anyone. The former guerilla fighter moved closer to the Cajun, providing cover, hoping the former Confederate sniper got a grip on his flashback. When a wounded McCann galloped out of town, heading in the direction of Sacramento, Faraday urged Robicheaux to take the shot. When he couldn’t seem to escape from whatever he was seeing, Joshua grabbed the rifle from his hands to make his own attempt at hitting the fleeing Blackstone when he noticed the chamber in the Winchester was empty. Before he could say anything, Billy grabbed the rifle. He exchanged a look with Joshua when he noticed the empty chamber. Cocking the gun to close the chamber, he grabbed Goody by the arm.

“It was jammed.” Brown eyes narrowed at the gambler, daring him to dispute his declaration.

Green eyes went wide before he gave a nod of understanding. Goodnight had always been a gentle soul who would rather talk his opponents to sleep then shoot them. Since the day Joshua had met the man, he felt the souls of the people he’d killed during the war would come for him if he killed for anything less than self-defense. He walked beside Billy, reloading his pistols until they reached the others. Sam had cajoled the town’s Sheriff from under the porch where he hid while bullets were flying. The Warrant Officer was giving Sheriff Harp a message to relay to Bogue.

“You tell him Lincoln, like the President, Lincoln, Kansas. You got that?”

“Lincoln like the President.”

“And Westover … Westover, Kansas. You tell him Sam Chisholm is writing for him.”

Lincoln and Westover, Kansas … Sam Chisholm.”

“Now, you go on. Get on your horse and do like I told you.” Sam made shooing motion with his hand. Harp started to turn away. “Oh, one other thing … Drop the gun and the badge.”

“I was duly elected Sheriff.” He whined.

“Consider this a recall.” Chisholm growled while everyone snickered as they watched the little round man scramble for a horse. “How’d everybody do?”

As everyone called out numbers, Joshua raised his by one as he smirked at Vasquez.

“You want to even it up, Güero?” Vasquez growled as he reached for his guns.

“Settle down you two.” Horne stepped between them.

Distracted, Joshua noticed the street was still empty. “Where is everyone? They leave town after the widow come looking for us?”

“They’re here. They’re just scared.” Emma spat. “Come out everyone. It’s safe. These are the men I found to help us get rid of Bogue. They’re here to help! Come out … Come out!” She called.

Slowly doors opened and people began to pour out of the buildings.

“Who asked you to take our money and go hire men?” One of the men snapped at Emma.

“Someone had to have the balls to do it.” She glared at the town folk. “This is Sam Chisholm and his men.”

“I’m a duly sworn Warrant Officer and sworn peace officer from Wichita, Kansas, for the states of Arkansas, Nebraska, The Indian Territories, and seven other states. The way I figure we’ve got a week before Bogue gets back here from Sacramento. I figure by then we can have a few surprises set up to even the odds.” Chisholm drew the people’s attention before things got ugly with Mrs. Cullen.

“We’ve got three weeks. Bogue said he’d be back in eight weeks.” A dark-haired woman holding a baby informed them in the tone that suggested they were all something nasty she found on the bottom of her shoe.

“I sent him a message. Three days for it to get to Sacramento, a day for him to round up his men, three days back … Yep. A week.”

There was a lot of general muttering through the crowd along with louder voices claiming they came here to farm not fight. Emma listened to them all, eyes narrowed in her grief and anger. “If you’re going stay … Stay. If you’re going to go, don’t take anything you didn’t come with.” She barked, hands on hips.

The owner of the saloon and whorehouse was staying to protect his investment, and it was with a resigned air he offered rooms to Chisholm and his men. A few of the women offered to help Emma prepare meals. The red-head could work and shoot as well as any man but wasn’t the most talented in the kitchen.

The way six of the seven men were eating, you’d think they hadn’t eaten in a week. Living on trail rations wasn’t the best. Then there was the Comanche. He’d taken one look at his plate, and after sniffing the food, threw it on the table and said something in his own language. Once the ladies retired, the men got down to serious planning along with some serious drinking.

Shortly after daylight the next morning, wagons loaded with families and possessions began leaving town, including a stagecoach filled with all the town’s whores. Though Gavin, the saloon owner promised they’d be home before the week was out, the women’s expressions said they thought differently. The seven men in various forms of watchful repose on the porch of the saloon watched the activity with an eye to how many men were leaving town.

“We should check out the mine … See if they’re willing to help.” Goodnight drawled from where he was leaning against Rocks sharing a cigarette.

“It’ll let the town settle.” Faraday winked at the pretty, dark-haired whore, who pulled down the window shade with a huff.

Ambling toward the livery to saddle their horses, it didn’t take long for them reach the nearby gold mine. They had stopped at the general store long enough to collect a few foodstuffs as incentive since Emma said Bogue kept the men on starvation rations, not wanting to cut into the mines profits.

While the miners were helping themselves to the food offered, the Seven headed to the powder shack. Faraday took one look at the building burgeoning with kegs of black powder and crates of dynamite.

“I’ve always wanted to blow something up.” He smirked at the others as they exclaimed over their find.

They loaded several wagons with their treasure trove of explosives and most of the miners. The ones that remained behind were too worn or sick to fight but were happy to take a few days off while everyone else headed back to Rose Creek.

As their expert on guerilla tactics, Faraday had taken Wild Jack out to ride the fields around town to determine the best place to lay their traps. He wasn’t surprised when Vasquez rode out beside him, Jack only occasionally reaching over to nip at his grey gelding. Sitting atop the highest point in the river valley, Joshua lit a cheroot and tried to visualize Bogue and his most trusted Blackstones watching the town for the most opportune time for them to ride in and take over demoralized town folks that had been beat down by the hired guns. He could see the smarmy little bastard looking self-satisfied at the death and destruction his Blackstones would cause. Thinking in worse case scenarios, he thought this would be a good place to plant a stick or two of dynamite. Sharing his thoughts with the Mexican outlaw, he saw the dark eyes go wide.

“Güero, you are loco, but I like it.”

He chuckled as he watched Faraday add a mark to the map. Riding to the far side of the field, they noted they were moving back toward town. “Emma said there’s a root cellar under the building the General Store uses for extra storage where we could hide the kids. If they needed to evacuate for some reason it would be a short run in the open before they reached the cover of a grove of cottonwood trees.

Watching the russet haired gambler make his notes, Vasquez wondered how many had underestimated the man because he acted the tonto _(fool)_. He thought the man more like coyote or fox. With an indulgent grin peeking from under his moustache, the men headed back to the livery.

~ • ~ • ~

After lunch Vasquez went with the group working to reinforce the church’s bell tower while Faraday and Chisholm headed to the targets they had set up behind the livery. Cigarillo clamped between his teeth Faraday leaned against the corral watching Goodnight schooling a bunch of farmers and miners attempts to shoot at the targets he’d set up. How these men survived in the wilderness without knowing how to shoot was a miracle in itself. The warrant officer and gambler watched in amazement as every bullet fired missed the target.

“Jesus wept.” Faraday growled while Chisholm shook his head.

The guerilla fighter side of the gambler wanted to jeer at the Cajun. The _Angel of Death_ should be able to teach anyone to shoot. It was his better side that was a friend to Goodnight Robicheaux and knew the demons that rode the gentle spirit, so kept the harsh words behind his teeth as the Southerner finally lost his temper with his students.

“You got to hate what you’re shooting at!” He stomped up and down the firing line. “God damn it. I can’t believe y’all lived this long. Get that rifle pulled tight to your shoulder or the recoil will knock you on your ass. Teddy, boy, you disappoint me. I thought you knew better.” A gun at the other end went off. “That’s twice you’ve done that. Go fix me some eggs or something.” He growled as he kicked the man’s legs from under him.

Shaking his head, Joshua used the corral rail to strike a match and light cigarillo. “It’s too demoralizing watching this … Think I’ll go work on my surprises. Hopefully no one will walk out in the field to take a piss and fall in a trap.”

That got a wide smile out of Sam. “I’ll tough it out here if only to keep Goody from shooting someone out of pure frustration.”

Joshua touched the brim of his hat in a salute as he straightened to go collect his supplies. Walking past the sawmill, he paused when he heard Vasquez talking.

“But my pa just stood there and let those men do what they wanted to my teacher. All he did was leave. He’s a coward. You wouldn’t have walked away.” He heard the petulant young voice complain.

“Your mother is dead, si?” Vasquez asked.

“Yeah. She died when I was born.”

“So, you have no one to take care of you if something were to happen to your father?”

“I guess there’s someone in town would take me in.”

“Your father is a small man. What did you expect him to do against three Blackstones?”

“I don’t know … Something other than walking away.”

“You should thankful your father walked away for he would surely be dead, and you would be an orphan.” Vasquez snapped.

“But …”

“Bah. I have had enough of your foolishness.”

Faraday ducked around the corner as Vasquez charged out of the sawmill with several boards piled on his shoulder as he stalked toward the church. Hurt and confusion warred with hero worship on the young face as he returned to his job of making sure the scraps and sawdust were cleared away. Joshua continued to the General Store envying the boy his father.

That night if the stories were a little more raucous, if the whiskey flowed as abundantly as the food, if the two men sat a little closer, and if two of the men around the large table had a more intrinsic understanding between them … Well, they could all be dead by week’s end.

~ • ~ • ~

The next few days, the Seven yelled, cajoled and browbeat the town’s people into digging traps, turning the bell tower into a sniper’s nest, and preparing the town for the battle to come. Remembering Kansas, and knowing Bogue had the money to buy anything available on the market, Chisholm and Faraday tried to plan accordingly. They knew Bogue would attempt to overrun the town with sheer numbers of Blackstones and would do his best to make sure he didn’t get hit with any of the blood that would be shed on both sides. What he would do after many of his men were dead or injured by their traps and kill boxes since he didn’t care if every man, woman, and child in the town ended up dead.

They were headed to the saloon for supper after a trip to the bath house. Seeing a cloud of dust that indicated a fast moving horse caught their attention before they stepped up onto the saloon’s porch.

“It seems our red brother is returning to town in a bit of a rush.” Horne squinted as he watched the figure come into focus.

The Comanche slid off the sweat darkened back of his horse. His tone was strident as he explained to Sam what he’d seen. With a pat on the shoulder, Red Harvest led his tired gelding toward the livery.

“He said between one and two hundred Blackstones are two days out. Bogue’s personal guard with a wagon are half a day behind them.” Chisholm explained as they entered the saloon. “We need to finish up our plans tomorrow in case they push on faster than Red Harvest anticipates.”

While eating, the men discussed what remained to be done before the arrival of the Blackstones. Not liking the somber mood at the table, Joshua began telling the story of how he named his guns. Seeing Goodnight whispering to Billy, and the consternation on the Korean’s face as he lit one of their opium laced cigarettes, he made a note to pull the fighter to the side later to see what his troubling his friends. Catching Billy’s eye, he cocked his head in question. Billy shook off his question as he joined in the laughter from the gambler’s antics. Later, when he stepped outside to take a piss, Joshua followed.

“What’s up with Goody?” He asked bluntly. He didn’t want Robicheaux to show up if he detained Billy too long.

“He’s seeing owls.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. He’s afraid if he kills again, the dead will come after him. I got him to settle a little, but it’s minute to minute.

“Anything I can do?”

“Just being you is usually enough.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a hint of a smile as he finished buttoning his fly.

“Thanks … I think.” He finished his business before following Rocks inside.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him when Goodnight turned to say something to Horne. Joshua shook his head and shrugged at the same time and began rearranging their plans if they should only have one shooter in the bell tower.

~ • ~ • ~

It wasn’t long before Jack left the saloon for his tent pitched by the small lake outside of town. Chisholm, Goodnight and Billy followed soon after leaving Joshua, Vasquez and a few locals to sink further into their cups.

“Think I’ll check on Wild Jack. Folks get scared of his antics and don’t take proper care of him.” Shoving back his chair, he pulled on his vest and plopped his hat over his curls.

“Si, a good idea, Güero. Rucio will mourn if he doesn’t see my handsome face at least once a day.” Vasquez’s teeth flashed wide smile in the moonlight as he stuck a fresh cigarillo between them.

Hearing Faraday’s chuckle, he struck a match and inhaled the sweet tobacco smoke into his lungs. Passing a watchfire, he noticed the cloud that had settled over the Irishman after he returned from talking to Billy, seemed to have lifted. It was a companionable silence that surrounded the men as they walked toward the livery.

After checking their horses and slipping Wild Jack several bites of dried apple, Joshua and Vasquez watched their four legged friends settle for the night. Leaning against the rails of the corral holding Faraday’s stallion, they passed the pint bottle of whiskey Joshua carried in his vest pocket and talked of everything and nothing. By the time the bottle was empty, the men had gravitated closer by the simple manner of not wanting to move more than an arm as they passed the bottle back and forth. Walking back to their rooms above the saloon, shoulders brushed, and voices muted as they ended their walk in Faraday’s room, neither wanting to spend the rest of the night alone.

Waking the next morning, the first thing Joshua noticed was the smell of clean sweat and lye soap. When the fog that remained from last night’s drinking cleared, the next thing he realized was his wonderfully warm pillow was moving. Rubbing his face against the material of his pillow, he began his usual morning stretch before realizing the body he was decidedly male. Dark eyes met green as Faraday blinked several times in an attempt to clear the remaining fog of sleep.

“Buenos días, Güero.” A chuckle rumbled through Vasquez’s chest.

“Hasta ahora tan Bueno, Texican.” Joshua answered without a thought, unconsciously answering.

“So, you speak Spanish?” Vasquez shoved up against the headboard, dislodging Joshua from his chest.

The bad, depending on your point of view, part of Vasquez moving was Joshua ended up with his face in the Mexican’s crotch. “You did that on purpose, bastard.” He sat up on the edge of the bed to allow his slight hangover to settle before bending over to pull on his boots.

“Spanish?” Vasquez bumped him in the back with his knee.

“I worked as Regulator at the King Ranch for a while after the war.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair. “A lot of their hands are vaqueros.” He looked down, seeing only one of his boots. “Damn.” He kneeled down to search under the bed.

When the curly head appeared from under the bed, Vasquez had rolled onto his stomach. Grabbing Joshua’s face, he planted a chaste kiss on wind chapped lips before reaching over the edge of the bed for his own boots. He gave the man a mock glare then a sly smile as he settled his hat and guns.

**_~ Chapter ~_ **

The birds were barely awake as the two men moved quietly down the stairs. Vasquez went in search of coffee while Faraday slipped out the door and headed toward the lake. An hour later he carried a stringer of enough catfish to feed the Seven. He stopped by Jack’s tent to roll the hunter out of his bedroll. He’d just finished gutting and skinning the first fish when the grizzled head popped out of the tent.

“Boy, you ought to know better than riling a man out of his bed. Good way to get shot.” He grumbled good naturedly.

“Even if I brought breakfast?” Joshua grinned as he held up his stringer of fish.

“Well, that’s another matter. It seems the good Lord has seen fit to fulfill your needs this morning.”

“You really believe all that God stuff you spout?”

Jack frowned at the younger man in an attempt to decide if he was making fun of his religious convictions. All he saw was curiosity. “I do.”

“How’s that work with the things you’ve done and about to do when Bogue’s men get here.”

“You don’t ask simple questions, Son.”

“I’m not often in a situation to have actual conversations with people. Usually I’m taking their money at the poker table.” He chuckled as he finished cleaning the second fish he meant to leave with the older man.

“There is that. I figure if I don’t make it out of what’s coming, I’ll have died helping the people of Rose Creek. It might not be enough to balance the things I’ve done in the name of my grief, but I’m hoping Jesus dying for my sins will let me see my family once more before my final judgment.”

“If it don’t?”

“I’m sure they’ll be plenty of people of my acquaintance when I get to hell.” He cut a chunk of lard off the block and threw it in the skillet that had been heating on the fire.

“Huh. Makes as much sense as anything else I’ve heard.” Faraday moved away from Horne’s tent to bury the offal from cleaning the catfish. Picking up the remainder of the stringer. “See you in town after breakfast.” He touched the brim of his hat with two fingers in a salute to the hunter.

“Thanks for breakfast.”

A short time later, he flopped the remaining fish on the counter in front of Emma causing her to emit a squeak in surprise before she turned to glare at the gambler. “A little something to add to breakfast.” Faraday gave her a smirk before heading for the coffee pot. Pouring himself a cup, he headed for the main room of the saloon. “Ladies.” He gave them a bit of a bow before he sauntered from the kitchen.

“That man.” Emma growled as she snatched up the fish and a knife.

~ • ~ • ~

After breakfast, everyone went their separate ways to finish getting blockades in place for their kill boxes and finishing the booby traps in town. Red Harvest was standing watch in case Bogue’s men moved faster than the Comanche’s estimation. Faraday was hanging a stick of dynamite on the door to a shed containing a keg of black powder. The fire from the dynamite explosion would ignite a secondary explosion of the black powder. Vasquez looked up to see the gambler with a lit cheroot between his teeth.

“You think that is a good idea, Güero?” He chuckled.

“What?” Faraday stepped back to look at his work. The Mexican pointed at the ragged end of the cigar. “Oh.” Hearing Vasquez laugh, he threw the cheroot at his new friend and continued wiring the door. “Smart ass, Texican.” He muttered under his breath.

“Still not a Texican, cabrón.” He laughed harder as Joshua stalked off to his next booby trap.

Sam and Joshua were walking town, checking that all of their plans had been completed when Red Harvest’s horse slid to a stop in front of them. After a rapid spate of Comanche to Sam, the young warrior lead his roan to the water trough before heading back out of town.

“The large group of riders stopped at the river for the night. They’re waiting for Bogue’s group with the wagon. They’ll probably be here before noon tomorrow.”

“Wonder what’s so important about that wagon?”

Shaking his head. “Red Harvest didn’t know, but he’s going back to keep watch until they settle for the night.”

“Think we should set a watch in case they send an advance group?”

“Yeah. I’ll take last watch.”

“I’ll go out after Red Harvest comes back.”

“I’ll let everyone know.”

The men separated to spread the news and finish their preparations.

~ • ~ • ~

By the time the sun cleared the horizon, every citizen of Rose Creek was in their assigned places. A shrill whistle filled the air.

Hearing the warning whistled into the still of the morning, the Seven moved to their starting places. Every man among them knew if they survived the day, they would end the day nowhere near where they started. Moving toward their post in the church’s bell tower, Goodnight stopped at the distant sound of hooves pounding against the earth. Noticing his partner no longer beside him, Billy turned back at the sound of distress.

“Goody?”

“I … I can’t … If I take a life in violence … I can’t do this … I know … I love you. I can’t be here … I can’t ... I’m sorry.” The former sniper headed down the street to the livery.

“I understand. I hope to see you when this is over.” The assassin continued his walk to the church stiffening his spine against the sound of his heart galloping out of town.

Sam Chisholm stood in the shadow of the saloon door as he watched his old friend run. He knew the pain he was feeling … He should never have asked Goody to get involved. He knew the demons that rode the brother of his heart. They had met before the war, and though they were on opposite sides, they continued to watch out for each other even across the battlefield. He felt a second stab of guilt as he watched Billy walk alone toward the church. Giving himself a mental shake, he pushed the batwing doors open to take his position. If it was a very good day, he’d get to put a bullet in Bartholomew Bogue and put the ghosts of his family to rest.

At the sound of Teddy’s whistle, Faraday and Vasquez headed for the back door of the saloon. They would be working the back of the buildings to try and keep Blackstones away from the General Store where the children and most of the women were hiding in the root cellar. In the shadow of the stairs, Joshua stopped, nearly being run down by Vasquez. The gambler spun and grabbed the outlaw’s shoulders to steady him. Once he gained his balance, Faraday pulled in for a breath stealing kiss before letting go and slipping out the door. A wide smile crossed the rugged face at the antics of his loco Güero. Following the mischievous laugh, he touched the pendant at his throat with a small prayer, and hoped they survived the day to explore what was growing between them.

Red Harvest scrambled up the side of the saloon and onto the roof. He had stashes of arrows hidden all over town, so there was little worry about running out of ammunition. He only needed to move two buildings over in order to light the hay wagons that would make the main street into what Chisholm called a kill box. When his tribe’s medicine woman told him his path would take him to a place far from his home, he never imagined it would put him in the middle of a white man’s fight. If he survived what was to come, there would be a long talk with the spirits on that topic. His attention was drawn back to the road when he heard Billy Rocks shout a warning.

**“HERE THEY COME!”**

Jack shushed the men praying in the pit where they would hide until the Blackstones made their first run against the town. They would then reveal themselves and fire on the hired guns before they got turned around for another run. The thunder of horses’ hooves froze everyone in their spots as people yelled and gunshots were heard coming closer.

“Steady …” Horne soothed as shadows from the horses passing over them nearly blacked out the sun. As the sounds except for the bark of rifles moved away, Jack shoved their cover off and shouted at his men. **“NOW!”** The dozen men with him stood and began to fire at the retreating backs of Bogue’s men.

Sending his mare out of town and out of reach of Bogue and his army, Goodnight Robicheaux felt the cold sweat running down his back though the chill mountain morning blew through his hair. Reaching the top of the nearest foothill, he pulled his horse to a stop, so she could catch her wind. He was safe. No one saw him sitting on top the hill since their concentration was on getting to Rose Creek. He flinched as the sound of gunfire reached his ears. Still watching Bogue riding alongside the wagon, Goodnight gasped when the tarp blew down into the bed. His stomach clenched as it wanted to expel his breakfast. Dragon’s Breath … A Gatlin gun. The people of Rose Creek and his friends old and new didn’t stand a chance unless he went back to warn them. Going back would mean entering the battle, falling back into the world of violence. Billy would be there. He would help him when the owl came. He would help him quiet the voices of the dead. He should not have questioned his trust in his companion of these many years. Along with his love there would be his brothers in arms, Chisholm and Faraday, and his new brothers, Vasquez, Horne, and Red Harvest. He sent a prayer to St. Jude for they were surely in the middle of a lost cause. It was with a newfound determination that he turned his bay back toward Rose Creek.

Faraday fell to his knees from the impact of the bullet in his side. Trying to get a grip on the pain so he could get out of the middle of the street, he looked up in the sneering face of Bogue’s right hand, McCann. At the moment he believed he was going to die Joshua heard the yell of an angry Mexican. McCann’s body started to jerk in a bazaar dance as he was driven forward by the force of Vaquez’s anger and bullets.

“How you doing, Güero?” He called over the noise of the gunfire and explosions.

Kneeling behind a stack of sandbags, Faraday used his arm to put pressure on his wound. “So far so good.” His expression was as much grimace as smile. Reloading his guns he rejoined the fight.

**_~ Chapter ~_ **

There was a brief lull in the gunfire as the remaining Blackstones stopped to regroup and prepare to make their next run at the town. Goodnight’s horse slid to a stop in front of Sam.

“Dragon’s breath. They’ve got Dragon’s breath.” He kept repeating.

“What?” Sam demanded.

“Dragon’s breath. They’ve got a goddamn Gatlin gun!” He grabbed his rifle and ammo, then ran for the bell tower.

Catching the words ‘Gatlin gun’, Faraday headed down the street firing at Blackstones and yelling for everyone to get down and get behind something before heading to church to warn Vasquez. The result was he was nearly caught out in the open when bullets began whizzing through walls, doors and windows without regard to who was in the line of fire.

“Jesus wept.” Joshua panted as his bullet wound sent a spasm of pain in complaint of the demands he was making of his body.

Chisholm slid down the wall beside him. “When this is over, we’re square on the horse. I’ll probably end up owing you.” A wide smile graced the dark skinned face.

Joshua stood, realizing the bullets had stopped flying. “They’re letting the gun cool … Reloading.” He muttered more to himself then Sam.

“We got to stop that gun and get the kids out of the cellar.” He turned back to Sam. “You only owe me one thing.” Faraday grinned his fox’s smile.

“What’s that?”

“Cover.”

Taking a deep breath against the pain he was about to cause himself, Joshua ran for a nearby horse and swung himself into the saddle. Spurring the horse into a run, he headed toward the top of the hill where the wagon sat with its bed full of Gatlin gun and ammo. He bared his teeth against the pain thinking of the surprises he left around the small rise. All he had to do was get there alive.

~ • ~ • ~

In his best battlefield voice, Sam yelled, **“COVERING FIRE!”** Before picking off several Blackstones that were looking for loose horses to chase down the gambler. Once he saw Goodnight’s attention turned toward Faraday, he left the defense of the gambler in the hands of the sniper and assassin as he turned to the problem of getting the elderly and children out of the root cellar and into the nearby woods before they were suffocated by the fire’s smoke.

Chasing the last of the children into the trees and ordering them to hide until someone came to fetch them, Sam ran back toward town. Approaching the church he heard an agonizing scream from inside the scorched building. Knowing he didn’t have much time before the Gatlin gun was cool and reloaded, he barreled through the door hoping to get anyone inside under cover before the next round of destruction began. The only problem with his plan was the scream came from their Mexican gunfighter, who shoved Chisholm to the side as he ran out the door and grab the nearest horse.

Before he could chase after Faraday, the Gatlin gun began to spit it’s destruction forcing Vasquez back inside the church and the protection of the sandbags they’d piled along the walls. The man in black dove behind a pile of firewood when the sound of body hitting the ground came from the direction of the steeple as Billy called out Goodnight’s name.

“Stay under cover, Rocks!” Sam ordered. There was no way he wanted Goody reaming him out for letting something happen to his partner. A cry of pain told him the assassin hadn’t gotten back under cover quick enough. “Rocks!”

“I’ll live. Get to Goody.” Billy’s voice was breathy with pain.

Looking at the unmoving Cajun, he feared the worst, but before he could get to where Robicheaux laid sprawled on the ground, an explosion tore through the valley from the direction Faraday had ridden toward the Gatlin gun. It was a dejected looking Vasquez that came out of the church and headed for the livery. He figured he was going to retrieve what was left of his friend.

After the explosion that took out the Gatlin gun, the only sounds were the groans of the wounded and the whinnies of frightened horses. The few Blackstones that were still mobile saw Bogue and his two personal guards riding slowly into town. Instead of joining their boss, they took off in the opposite direction hoping to never again hear the name Bartholomew Bogue.

Red Harvest looked down on the body of Denali where it lay sprawled on the barroom floor. He barely refrained from spitting on the disgraced Comanche before giving his attention to the red-headed woman who brought them to this place. She had shown her warrior heart by facing down the exiled killer of his own people with no more than an empty pistol and her own courage. Giving her a nod, he jumped down to the main floor to check on the condition of the old hunter Denali had left sitting in the street, his body bristling with arrows.

Nocking an arrow, the Comanche looked up and down the street for any of the remaining Blackstones before approaching Horne. The only thing moving in town was the loose horses that hadn’t been killed by the last strafing by the Gatlin gun. So many bodies filled the street it was hard to find bare ground to walk across. He knelt beside the old man to check if he still lived. Hearing a shallow breath, he dropped his head so he could hear the whispered words only to realize the grizzled face held a smile as he whispered a litany of names like a prayer. Realizing the hunter had already started his journey into the West, he laid him back as he breathed his last.

Looking around for the remaining men he travelled with, Red Harvest saw the grey man that walked with the spirits of dead soldiers laying on the ground. He began moving toward his fallen compatriot when he saw the three men riding into town. He didn’t recognize them other than two were dressed in the same coats as the ones called Blackstones. Knowing this was not his fight, he slipped into the shadows. He would take another route to get to where Goodnight lay unmoving.

~ • ~ • ~

Bartholomew Bogue pulled his horse to a stop as the street was blocked by a barricade of sharpened spikes, that were once trees in the nearby forest, and wagons of burning hay. Stepping down from his horse, he waited until his two guards walked through the person sized opening between the wagons and barricade. All three men pulled their guns as the sounds they heard turned out to horses running down the street and the wounded and dying. Bogue stopped at the steps of the church while he motioned his men toward the sounds coming from the undertaker’s building. There didn’t appear to be an unbroken window in the entire town. The buildings were riddled with bullet holes or lay in piles of kindling from explosions. He didn’t really care about the town other than the land he would have to expand his mining operations with so many of the town’s people gone or dead. Gunshots from inside the undertaker’s drew his attention back to the present as one of his guards walked out the door. Bogue smiled until his man collapsed and died. He cocked the hammer on his pistol as a tall black man dressed in black walked out the door while holstering his pistol.

“Chisholm. Should I know that name?”

“You should from your obituary.” Chisholm answered.

“We connected somehow?”

“Fourteenth of October eighteen sixty-seven. Did you hire renegade Greys to pillage, steal land in Kansas?”

A brief smirk appeared before his face went blank. “Homesteaders.”

“Good people, trying to make a life for themselves like these people here.”

“If God didn’t want them sheared … He wouldn’t have made them sheep.”

Dark fingers wrapped around the handle of his gun as dark eyes stared at the robber baron. Bogue raised his gun figuring he had an advantage over the man in black. Pain raced up his arm as the bullet knocked his pistol out of his grip and burned a crease along the palm of his hand. As he held his wound and tried to hide his pain from his adversary, Chisholm began moving toward him.

“Pick it up.” He commanded. When Bogue ignored him, he stepped closer. “PICK IT UP!” He raised his voice. Bogue shuffled toward his pistol but didn’t move to retrieve the weapon. “I said, **P** **ICK IT UP!”**

Seeing Chisholm coming closer, Bogue bent to grab the gun only to have the warrant officer’s shot knock the pistol out of his reach. Panicked, he turned to run into the scarce cover of the church. The report of a pistol and pain in his leg knocked the Southern born businessman down against the steps of the church. Dragging his wounded body inside, he began a litany of Latin as he lay on the floor making the sign of the cross. Thinking Chisholm might balk at shooting someone in a church, Bogue tried to appeal to the man’s better nature.

“Are you a God fearing man?” He continued to pull himself toward the fire blackened pulpit as Chisholm continued to stalk him.

Bogue continued to beg for his life as Chisholm stared at him with his death in those dark eyes. Tears of pain and fear filled his eyes as he watched the man in black take a knee beside him.

“I want you to pray with me. Pray for my mother, who your men raped. Pray for my sisters, who your men murdered and raped. Pray for me as your men put the rope around my neck.”

Blue eyes went wide as the black neckerchief was unknotted from the scarred neck. “I remember … I remember …” Then words and breath were cut off as the same neckerchief was cutting off his own breath. He continued to beg while trying to think of ways to escape the grip on his throat.

As Sam unloaded more than ten years of memories and bitterness over the death of his family and his own near death to the man responsible for the worse day of his life, he lost focus on anything else happening around him. “Pray with me. I know you know the words. _Our Father, which art in heaven …_ ” He continued to say the words of the Lord’s Prayer, encouraging Bogue to say them with him. While he prayed, he failed to realize the danger to his own life as instead of simply flailing through his death throes, Bogue was attempting to reach something tucked inside the top of his boot.

Finally succeeding in wrapping his crippled fingers around the hideout derringer tucked in his boot, an expression of satisfaction crossed his oxygen starved face as he pulled his hand up between himself and Chisholm. His satisfaction was short-lived when a shot rang through the church. Pistol and man fell limp from Chisholm’s hold. Ready to attack whoever had the audacity to steal his revenge from him, Sam stopped when he saw Emma Cullen standing in the doorway of the church, rifle still tucked against her shoulder. Seeing the derringer, he realized she’d saved his life. If anyone had the right, besides him to take the life of Bartholomew Bogue, it was Emma Cullen. Placing his hat back on his head and placing his neckerchief around his neck, he whispered a final “Amen” as he stood to join the widow who delivered her own form of righteousness and revenge. He took Emma by the shoulder and gently turned her away from the body laying inside the church. It was time to mourn the dead and heal the wounded. The war with Bartholomew Bogue was over.

**_~ Chapter ~_ **

A sharp whistle drew his attention to where Red Harvest was tending to Goodnight. Sam saw splints on his left arm and leg as the Comanche was binding the sniper’s bullet wounds. “He lives but he has lost a lot of blood.”

“You speak English.” Emma sounded shocked.

“When needed. My tribe allowed a black robe to live with us until we learned the white man’s language.” He turned his attention back to Sam. “The old hunter died at the hands of Denali. I will check Goodnight’s warrior.” Red Harvest collected his supplies then headed up into the bell tower.

Chisholm grabbed a plank from the lumber cut for the repairs to the church. With Emma’s help they got Goodnight moved onto the plank. They got him moved into the church where they left him until some help was found to get him back to his room above the saloon. With the addition of Red Harvest, another plank, and a rope they were able to get Billy down from the bell tower and laid out next to Goodnight.

Heading for livery, Sam stopped in the middle of the street. With the number of bodies it looked more like a battlefield than a town of farmers and miners. He imagined the fields outside town where they had laid traps for the Blackstones would be worse. Dynamite didn’t distinguish between horses and men. They’d have to drag the horse carcasses out away for the scavengers and use mass graves for the Blackstones. If any of the Seven besides Sam and Red Harvest wasn’t too badly wounded, they’d have to go to Sacramento and notify any relations of the Bogue’s death. Jarred out of his thoughts when Red appeared leading Horse, they headed out to look for Vasquez and Faraday.

~ • ~ • ~

Pulling Rucio to a stop when he found the first piece of Gatlin gun, Vasquez began to carefully search the ground before moving forward. Hearing fast approaching hoofbeats, he knotted his reins, pulled both pistols before using his knees to turn Rucio toward the approaching horse. Seeing no rider, he took another look. If he wasn’t so worried, he would have laughed out loud. Seeing Wild Jack slide to a stop then lower his head and begin quartering the field like an oversized bird dog, he followed the bay stallion as he searched for his owner. It didn’t take but another ten minutes until the horse stopped and was nuzzling something in the tall grass. Swinging down from his horse, he grabbed bag of supplies off his saddle horn and rushed over to Wild Jack’s location. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the bullet riddled, but mostly intact body of Joshua Faraday.

“Oh Güero.” He breathed out as he first checked to see if the gambler was still among the living. Feeling breath against his check and hearing a weak heartbeat, he began looking for wounds he could treat before worrying about how he would get the Irishman back town.

Giving thanks to the Gods that protected fools, Vasquez began to tend the wounds he could handle with his meager supplies. There seemed to be too many pieces when he checked his ribs, and he when he saw the blood at the corner of Joshua’s mouth, he feared one of the many bullets that passed through the muscular body had hit a lung, but it appeared Faraday had bit his tongue when he fell off the horse he’d used for his suicide ride. He hoped the fact he didn’t have to dig bullets out of Faraday’s body was a good sign since it took damn near an entire bottle of whiskey to clean the holes.

With the bleeding stopped, he took the sheet he’d grabbed out of the undertaker’s building and using his knife, cut wide strips to wrap the cracked and broken ribs. Next, he check arms and legs for broken bones. He straightened and tied together three fingers on his right and two fingers on his left hand. Seeing blood on Faraday’s left pants leg, Vasquez split the seam to see a piece of metal probably from the Gatlin gun stuck in the thigh muscle. Not having a way to keep a wound that size closed, he simply wrapped the leg and hoped there was someone in town that knew about doctoring.

Having done all he could, he began looking for a way to get the gambler back to town without slinging him across Jack’s saddle. He thanked the Gods watching over Seven foolish men when Vasquez found what he assumed was the bottom of the wagon that carried the Gatlin gun. Using the rope off Faraday’s saddle, he rigged the wagon bottom, so he ran the ropes through Jack’s breast collar allowing the stallion to pull it like a sled. He led the bay over to where Joshua lay unconscious in the grass. Being careful of his injuries he got the muscular man on the boards.

Turning his head to watch what the human was doing with his person; Wild Jack gave a bass grumble to warn Vasquez he was being watched. “I’m being as careful as I can. Our Güero needs to think about going on a diet.” He complained though he could find not an ounce of fat on the muscular body. “I swear he bewitches anything on four legs. Even my Rucio likes him.” He checked that he hadn’t disturbed any of the bandages.

Finally settled in Rucio’s saddle, he looked up to see Chisholm and Red Harvest riding toward him.

“He alive?” Sam asked.

“Barely. Anything resembling a doctor in town?” He started leading Jack toward town.

“Not sure. Folks are still crawling out of their hiding places.”

“Robicheaux, Rocks and Horne?”

“Horne’s dead, the other two are hanging on.” They both looked at Red Harvest he said something to Chisholm in Comanche. “Says Horne was meeting his family on the Red Road when he found him.

“The pretty widow and her puppy?” Vasquez smiled a shark’s smile.

“She’s fine … He took one to the leg but will live.”

They continued their slow journey back to town finally realizing the enormity that was going to be the clean-up of the battle’s aftermath.

~ • ~ • ~

By the time they got Faraday back to town, the doctor had been found and was treating the wounded in his office but had some of the ladies clearing out the saloon to set up cots for his patients. Anyone with experience treating the wounded was pressed into treating those not gravely wounded. Vasquez stayed with Joshua while Chisholm went to check on Goodnight and Billy. He found the two men sleeping on cots next to each other, scrubbed free of blood and grime with fresh bandages.

Satisfied with their condition, he rejoined Red Harvest. They found Horne and took his body to the undertaker to receive a proper burial, and not the mass grave that would be given to the Blackstones. Once they had taken care of the hunter, they went to the church where stripped Bogue of his jewelry, guns and money. Sam found a picture of a woman and young boy inside the man’s wallet. Assuming it to be his wife and son, Sam saw a trip to Sacramento to inform the woman of Bogue’s death and return his belongings to her. If they found any of the Blackstones alive and coherent enough to talk, the warrant officer would inquire where to find her. He wrapped the guns in Bogue’s coat and stashed them in his rooms before climbing on the wagon with Red Harvest to start their gruesome trip through the killing field outside of the town proper.

They’d been stripping dead horses of their saddles, bridles, and saddlebags for two hours when Vasquez rode out to join them. He brought lunch and canteens of water and news of their three wounded friends. Nearly all Faraday’s ribs were cracked or broken and was suffering from a bad hit to the head above his right ear. The doc had stitched the wound but warned there was no way to know if the gambler would have all his faculties. He could suffer headaches and the like until his brain healed. He had a lot of shrapnel wounds that had been cleaned and stitched along with five gunshot wounds.

With Vasquez to help Sam, Red Harvest went to round up the horses milling around, unsure of what to do without their riders. A few were suffering from minor wounds caused by flying debris. Tying together a string of twenty horses, the other horses seeing their ad hoc herd moving away, followed along behind. By the time he closed the gate on the large cattle pen, Red Harvest estimated he’d collected seventy-five horses. Many died in the explosions … Some had run with some of the Blackstones that decided Bogue didn’t pay them enough to get killed. He began stripping the horses of their tack. He’d let Sam sort through the saddlebags deciding what to do with the possessions of the dead men.

By the end of the day, the trenches that had been dug to hide their men were now a grave for the dead Blackstones. The preacher had said a few words over the vigilantes before the bodies had been covered. Chisholm, Vasquez, Teddy, and several of the other men had begun dragging the horse carcasses out of town for the scavengers. Riding their tired horses toward the livery, none of the men were looking forward to continuing to clear the bodies, but they didn’t want coyotes, vultures, and other predators attracted to the town. They stopped to check on the condition of their friends before gathering clean clothes and making the trek to the bath house. There was no way any of them wanted to sit down to supper with the smell of blood and death wafting in their noses.

The third morning after the battle, Billy had regained consciousness, but Goodnight and Joshua had developed slight fevers. Many of the bed ridden were beginning to show signs of rejoining the living, lightening the burden on the doctor and the people who’d been helping with the wounded.

Enough glass had been found to repair the ground floor windows while the top floors had been covered with thin leather and other materials to let in the summer breeze while keeping out pests and weather. Bullet holes were being patched, and people were restarting their lives. Goodnight was now awake, his fever broken but complaining about his lack of mobility with a broken arm and leg. Faraday slept on though the doctor thought the more he slept the less the gambler would be troubled by headaches. Billy watched the man closely when he dosed Joshua with laudanum to give him some bit of comfort so he could rest.

“I’m not going to overdose the man.” The doctor snapped at the Korean.

“Faraday is a man that lives by his wits and speed of his gun. He would not thank you to wake up addicted to poppy juice.” Billy explained.

“Understood. I’ll give him the least amount but will still give him relief.”

With a nod Billy laid back and closed his eyes.

Waiting until the doc left, Goodnight turned to his partner. “Cher?”

“Joshua might overindulge in alcohol, but only when he’s among friends. He would hate being addicted to opium.”

“Too true, mon cœur.”

After supper, Sam and Vasquez stopped by on their way to their rooms.

“Did he wake up at all?” Vasquez sat beside Faraday and began fussing over the gambler to let him know he was there.

“He tried, but the good doctor is keeping him sedated to spare him the pain of the headaches from his head injury. He does become more active when the medication begins to wear off.”

The worst of the clean-up was finished, so we’re leaving at first light for Sacramento. We found a Blackstone that wasn’t quite dead who was able to direct us to Bogue’s ranch. We’ll deliver the news of his death and effects to the widow and her son.” Sam showed them the picture of the woman and child.

“Her father must have been in dire straits to sell his daughter to Bartholomew Bogue.” Goodnight gave an exaggerated shudder.

“Goes to show there are many kinds of slavery.” Billy settled his pillows so he could lean comfortably against the headboard.

“Si, the patrons of haciendas also sell their sons and daughters for money or social standing.” He continued to fuss over Faraday. “You will take care of Güero until we return?”

“Of course. Joshua has been our friend for many years. We would not forsake him in his time of need.” Goodnight expounded.

With that promise, they made their goodnights and went to prepare for their journey.

**_~ Chapter ~_ **

Traveling through the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains, the three men were careful not to exhaust their horses. Since Bogue was dead there was no need to hurry, but they wanted to see the job finished. For Sam it was finally closing a chapter of his life that had taken on a life of its own inside his head. As long as he knew Bartholomew Bogue was alive it was like sand in an oyster producing a pearl twisted with his hate for the man.

Vasquez was accompanying Chisholm to leave behind the helpless feeling he got sitting at Faraday’s bedside. Concern and uncertainty for the man kept him distracted and less than useful in the re-building of Rose Creek. Rocks had given him information for an apothecary in Sacramento where he could pick up a packet of opium for Goodnight’s cigarettes and medicine for Faraday’s headaches. With Bogue’s rancho on the west side of Sacramento, a night in Sacramento to wash off the trail dust, enjoy good hot food, and sleep in a real bed would have them rested for their confrontation with the Widow Bogue.

Scouting ahead, Red Harvest found a small box canyon with water and plenty of grass for the horses that would make a good camp for the night. The Comanche was not looking forward to riding into the middle of the white man’s city, but he would for the men that had taken him into their group on no more than Chisholm’s word. When his tribe’s medicine woman had sent him off to find his path, he believed he would be walking the path alone. Now, he was sure the Spirits were having a joke at his expense by dropping him in the midst of Chisholm’s diverse group of misfits as the gambler had named them.

_~ TBC ~_


End file.
